


One Day T[he]y...

by EllenofX



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Baby Blasters, Angst, Attempt at Complex Characters, Character Death, Comfort, Fluff, Gaster Blaster AU, Gen, Handplates, Healing, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long, Medical Experimentation, Multi, Non-Chronological, Other, References to War, Slow Build, Thanks, Time/Space Fuckery, Undertale Saves and Resets, Unethical Experimentation, Why would you read this?, baby bones au, just read the summary, poor/lazy writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 145,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenofX/pseuds/EllenofX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formally titled "One Day T[he]y Just...<br/>---<br/>In an AU where Gaster created the skelebros and the boys can transform into blasters, the children escape, leaving the royal scientist to move on to other "interesting" experiments with his deteriorating health. Meanwhile, the children stumble through the underground, eventually making their way into Snowdin. Finally, unable to move forward, they are taken in by the community, in particular one well-known bartinder... Um, I mean, bartender.<br/>---<br/>"Papyrus," The elemental asked, "You know I'm not going to hurt you, right?"<br/>The boy was silent and sank further into the couch until he couldn't see The Monster anymore over Sans' form. Eventually, he heard the intermittent sounds of pages flipping. Papyrus listened to the sounds of The Monster reading his book and the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth and nudged himself closer to his brother, before stealing a corner of the blanket for himself.<br/>---<br/>Contains many aches, story lines, and a lot of back story. Recommended "sample" chapters are Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 30.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waste

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378657) by [KeetahSpacecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeetahSpacecat/pseuds/KeetahSpacecat). 



> Hello, there! Thanks for taking a look at this.
> 
> I've read so much incredible writing in this fandom to know that I cannot even hope to replicate it, so honestly... You should probably go down to my recommendation list in the end notes and read those instead of this. I'm not really writing here, I'm indulging myself with some odd little head cannons and honestly I'm a little embarrassed of this.  
> If you still want to read this, I might as well let you know this is the "first" of three planned fics, focusing on one possible reality from before Gaster fell into... Whatever he fell into. I'm going with Evil Gaster, who created Sans and Papyrus and fell into the core because it's the reality that currently entertains me he most. Why? Because I love Dad-Grillby and want to have him in this fic. <3
> 
> P.S. In an attempt not to reveal spoilers, many tags and warnings have not yet been added. Thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Papyrus go to town. Grillby messes up his breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this is a standard Baby Blaster AU first chapter. You might want to just skip it... Later, I'm hoping to spice things up. Also, yes, Pekingese is the language of the dogs. I am a punny person.
> 
> Bottom notes contain a timeline that will cut off every five chapters.
> 
> EDIT [2/16/16]: Someone implied that they were hesitant to comment because they were starting this fic when it was already fairly established, and they didn't have anything "to major" to say...
> 
> Well, I'm a filthy comment lover, and if you literally just posted a dot (as in ".") in comment to each chapter, it would thrill and enrapture me. If you don't want to say anything, totally cool, I hope you enjoy the read! _But_ if you are able to comment, I swear, it really makes my day! :-)
> 
> In other words, I don't want to beg for comments, but I'm begging for comments, because reasons.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :-)

Sans startled awake, panic flooding through him with the remnants of his dream, half memory, half nightmare. He calmed a little as he looked around. It was still dark and peaceful in the early morning, the snow that surrounded him glittering as it reflected back the cyan glow of his eyes. Against his side, the small form of his brother rested, nestled within his curled form as to keep the worst of the snow away from the younger creation. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh, his rib cage aching with the breath, but everything ached, and so he took little note of it.

Brother... Sans blinked. When had he learned that word? Where had he learned it? Sans shook his head, part to clear his mind of the early morning fog, and part in an admittance of defeat. His memory had always been... Peculiar. Or so the scientist had said. It was part of how he was made, Sans had been told.

There was a creak, then cracking from the crust of ice that had formed around him as he slept and Sans eased himself up onto all fours. Papyrus was shifted, nearly plopped onto the bare snow, but the pup gave no notice and Sans furrowed his brow. His own bones were shaking with weariness and cold, but he ignored it to nudge his sibling with his muzzle. Papyrus replied with a high-pitched whine, curling in on himself and hiding his head beneath the tip of his tail and his two small paws, but Sans could see beneath the bones a faint glimmer of orange. His brother was awake, and that comforted him.

" _come on_ ," he said in heavily accented Pekingese, " _rattle your bones_."

" _NO_ ," came the discontent reply, more emotion then word. 

" _papyrus, you know we can't stay here. we need to find food... and better shelter. we're lucky that last night was so calm_." His brother gave no reply, but Sans did not expect one. " _you can ride on my back again, for a while_."

Begrudgingly, the pup pushed himself up before shifting smoothly into his bipedal form. It was difficult for him to stand steadily, much less walk like this, but his brother quickly supported him. Soon Papyrus sat, half swaddled in their lone blanket atop Sans' back, and the two began to move.

\-----

Grillby woke up early. He always woke up early. Such was the life of a restaurant owner.

His daily routine was nothing spectacular. He awoke and checked his bed for burn marks (he hadn't left any for years, of course, but it had become such a deeply ingrained habit his morning seemed nearly incomplete if he failed to do it) before exercising briefly and composing himself in the mirror. Things always had the potential to shift at night as the elemental went into dormancy, and while he rarely had more than the slightest escape of flame, he always took a moment to correct it. He prided himself of having a classy and professional business, and part of that was ensuring his own polished look. Besides, while much progress had been made, some biological monsters still searched for any way to criticize the more formless of their brethren. Grillby sought to extinguish such opinions with his own burning example of success.

With a final straightening of his bow tie and an adjustment of his glasses, the fire monster left his house, forgoing his own kitchen for that of his business. Each and every morning, his first order was his own breakfast. It was the only one he allowed himself anything less than perfection.

\-----

Once in town, Sans followed his nose. As his brother became more alert, he started shifting around, looking in wonder at the buildings. Occasionally, he would point eagerly at one thing or another, making excited little exclamations at the strange objects around them. If his brother coughed as he did this, the youngster always had to scramble to steady himself, but it never deterred him from pointing again. Soon they drew near to one building in particular, and Sans suddenly hastened his pace. They had frequented it several times in the past few days, as it always had exactly what was he was looking for - food. He thought that the building might be a restaurant, he had read about them once, on one of the good days, and it would explain the large amount of scavengable waste left in the cans and bags. Today though, one of the huge tin cans was particularly interesting.

As he drew near, Sans could still see the faint wisps of steam rising from the top of the can. The idea of warmth and nutrition for him and his brother so seductive that the thought that this fresh meal meant conscious monsters were nearby didn't even occur to him. Sliding Papyrus off his back, he reared onto two legs to knock the trashcan over. It was a small unit, sitting beside Grillby's dumpster for incidental messes as opposed to the thick, black utility bags most of his trash was disposed of in, and it clattered loudly against the metal dumpster as it fell. Instantly, the two children were nearly inside it, devouring the blackened eggs without a second thought, the larger sibling pausing regularly to ensure the smaller was getting enough. Within moments, the charred meal was nearly gone, but not before Sans heard the slamming of a spring-shut door, and noticed the sudden flickering illumination of the alleyway.

\-----

Grillby stood in shock on the back stairway, staring at the two small monsters before him. He had been ready to find and scare away some small, furry animal rutting in his garbage for the fourth time this week, his mood already soured by his own failure in the form of scorched eggs. Instead, he was faced with what could only be described as skeletal monsters, their form vaguely reminiscent of the sleeker of the royal guard dogs, yet still quite foreign. Not only this, but they were clearly adolescent, their proportions rounded and stubby. The smaller one, in particular, had to be very young, their head so large compared to the rest of their body it seemed to Grillby that it could topple over at any moment. They seemed to be gorging themselves on the eggs he had burnt earlier, along with other miscellaneous disposed of food items, and Grillby couldn't help but shiver with disgust at the thought.

Suddenly the larger one froze, its head snapping up to look at him as it released a long growl. Grillby didn't dare to move much, but the reaction shook him out of his stupor and he took a small step back, not wanting to frighten the child. He felt at a loss, his core torn with pity while aware his knowledge of Pekingese limited at best, and that he desperately wanted to communicate with these youngsters. What could drive a monster to dig through garbage just for a meal? Were they lost? Or, worse yet, abandoned? That thought sent a ripple of anger through his being, his heat growing almost imperceptibly greater before he composed himself. The smaller monster was staring at him too, now, though without the growling or the glowing blue eyes. Instead, the darkness of its eye sockets held only little white pinpricks and curiosity.

The larger one's growling was tapering off now, and it seemed to be panting slightly, as though trying to catch its breath. Its eyes were still fixed on Grillby, and he felt another wave of pity as he realized what was about to happen just before the young monster fell into a coughing fit. He nearly started to draw closer to it, but at his first motion the monster snapped to attention again and resumed growling, even if it was now punctuated by rough coughing. Grillby waited for the fit to pass, which gave him time to think. When it was over, he said, in his best approximation of Pekingese, only two words.

" _Want food?_ "

Instantly, the smaller monster replied with an eager yelp as the larger one's eyes widened, " _YES_!"

Carefully, with slow movements so as not to startle them, Grillby reopened the back door to his kitchen and slid inside. As soon as he was out of sight, the fire monster became a flurry of activity, tossing together a quick, hot meal as fast as he could. It only took him a few moments, and he prayed the two would still be waiting there as he went back out to the alleyway... Of course, they were not.

He followed their tracks a few paces, noting that there was only one set along with drag marks (the larger monster must have picked up the smaller), but stopped when he reached the main street of Snowdin. The tracks swept away as far as his eyes could see, and a heavy snow was falling in the early dawn light. He saw something abandoned in the snow, and walked over only to find a dropped and tattered blanket. He picked it up, hands sizzling where they met the snowy ground, and Grillby felt a sinking feeling deep in his core before walking back to the alleyway.

Pondering, he carefully folded the soiled blanket before leaving it between the steps and the dumpster, a place he hoped the children would dare to venture again. He then placed the plate of food atop it, and with a sense of dreadful finality, Grillby straightened his trashcan, and went back into his kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> N/A  
> Chapter 1: Sans and Papyrus are sleeping in the woods when Sans awakens abruptly. It is mentioned he has a "peculiar memory". He gets up, knocking the ice that had formed overnight off of himself, and wakes Papyrus. The two then head to town where they scavenge for food, and Grillby, having woken up early for work, spots them. Grillby is a perfectionist and highly active elemental who is old enough to remember the war. He is very particular about his looks, but mostly because of how other people view him. Grillby offers the children food, but they run away before he can give it to them. 1595 words.


	2. Cardboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby talks to the Royal Guard Dogs. Sans and Papyrus go back to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very typical chapter. Nothing really to see here... Some characterization of the royal guard dogs, and while I've since standardized it, this was originally the first chapter I messed with different fonts and such. Thanks for continuing to read!

"...Children?" Dogaressa said, her voice thick with a Pekingese accent, but clear enough to understand for those who knew her well. Grillby did.

"Yes, specifically puppies. Two of them." Grillby replied, somewhat nervously.

"What about puppies?" Dogamy said. His accent was worse than his wife's, if only by a whisker, and sometimes the mountainous white-furred mut elected to have his wife translate for him. 

Almost hopefully, he added, "Dogaressa?"

"No, no. Sorry love. It's actually-" Dogaressa huffed, stopping herself. 

"Can you tell the rest of the guard what you told me, Grillby?"

"Certainly," the elemental said, straightening himself in reaction to the larger audience. He wasn’t used to having more than one or two people’s attention at a time, and while speaking in front of crowds hardly frightened him, the unexpected onset made him self-conscious.

"I saw two young - perhaps very young - monsters this morning, searching through my trash for food. It was very early, in fact it was still dark out, and I didn't think another soul was awake in Snowdin. So, when I heard a clattering from the alleyway out back, I assumed it was some form of vermin getting into my trashcan or dumpster. I was surprised when I came out and there were two... Children digging through my waste."

"Huh." Doggo said with a trace of confusion, leaning toward Grillby to squint at him, head bobbing slightly so he could see him better. Grillby looked at him, suddenly wondering if he had said or done something wrong, then glancing down to his clothing to see if he had spilled something on himself without noticing it.

"You said "children" oddly, and I thought we were talking about puppies?"

"Ahh," Grillby said, a sizzle in his voice, relieved, "To be honest, I'm not sure what they were. They walked on four legs, and had a body shape kind of like you, actually, Doggo, but they looked... Skeletal is the best word to describe it. Like the man Asgore had with him on T.V. a few months ago."

"Gaster?" Dogaressa offered. "The Royal scientist?"

"Sure." Grillby said hesitantly, before admitting, "I don't actually have a television at home, so I wouldn't really know. I only have the one mounted here for customers to watch..."

"Anyway," He said, snapping back to the topic, "They both seemed scared of me, but the blue eyed one was definitely more aggressive about it. That might just be the color of their magic, by the way, not a defining characteristic. Their eyes glowed, kind of like mine do. Like any elemental's do, I guess."

"Hard to notice on you, Grillby." Dogaressa said, and Grillby wondered, vaguely, if she was trying to placate him or just making an observation.

He ignored the comment. "The younger puppy seemed more curious than anything else, when I offered them food they practically leapt at the chance. I think it was the bigger one who made them leave before I could give them anything."

"Can you show us where this happened? Maybe we can track them down?" Doggo said. Of all the royal guard dogs, he was the best at speaking English. Grillby wondered if it was due to his poor eyesight, thinking that maybe his other senses were heightened, so that he could hear the differences in languages better.

"Certainly. If you'll just come around back…"

A few moments later Grillby stood outside, with the dogs sniffing around for any sign of the puppies. It wasn't long before Doggo spoke up again.

"It's no use. My nose is the best out of all of us, and I can't smell anything with all this fresh snowfall."

Dogamy nodded sadly, and asked, "You see what they..."

He struggled with the language for a moment, before finishing, "Was wearing?"

"Were wearing, puppy." Dogaressa corrected him quickly, "But good idea. Tell us as much as you remember, Grillby. We can start a formal search tomorrow."

"They weren't wearing anything." Grillby said, watching as the two alphas frowned in reaction, "All they had was a blanket that they dropped when they ran away."

"Bad." Dogamy said, wisely simplifying the message he wanted to convey, "Puppies need more warmth."

"Where is the blanket?" Dogaressa asked, "We might be able to get a scent off of that."

"Right here," Grillby said, going over to where he left it. He noticed the plate of food abandoned, now ice cold and with a thin layer of snow on top of it and frowned. That wasn't going to do anyone any good. Picking the plate up in one hand, he offered the blanket to the dogs with the other, and Doggo took it. He smelled it, then looked confused, before he continued sniffing, offering it to Greater Dog when he came near.

Meanwhile, the couple approached Grillby, Dogaressa placing a comforting paw on the elemental's white-clad arm as her husband spoke in Pekingese, trusting her to translate for him.

"Don't worry, Grillby," She said, "I'm sure that the young ones will be fine. If you really want to, though, Dogomy had a few suggestions for you... He said that maybe you could leave a few more blankets in a box or something out here, or a few old, warm cloths if you have an. He also thought that you could leave a bowl of dog kibble-"

Grillby made a face unintentionally. He hated having such processed food in his kitchen, but he knew that sometimes the royal guard dogs enjoyed it, particularly if they were in a rush.

Dogaressa caught the look and said, "-Hey, look, it's better than trash, right?"

They would agree to disagree on that, Grillby decided.

"And besides," She continued, "You don't have to leave just dog kibble. Maybe a thermos of that great soup you always make for Lesser Dog? The kind that warms you right up? Or some nice, warm hot chocolate?"

A hint of humor slid into her voice, "You could make if with milk, if they really are skeletons. You know..."

"Strong bones?" Grillby said, giving her a sad but complacent smile.

"Yeah," Dogaressa said with a little giggle. "You are such a sweetheart, Grillby, for being so worried and wanting to help. I want you to know you did the right thing by telling us. Now we can be on the lookout while we're on patrol. I promise, if there are young ones out there, we'll find them..."

She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "You heard Dogomy back in the grill house... Mr. Marshmallow over there wouldn't let anything happen to a pup. Not ever."

She started to turn away when her husband gave a sudden bark, "Right! Thanks for reminding me, love. Grillby, I nearly forgot! Lesser actually wants some of that soup before we leave today. Give it to Doggo to deliver, and I'll pay for it. Alright? Thanks."

"Any luck?" Dogomy called as they all turned back to the group of other dogs, now all passing around the tattered blanket. They were met with looks of confusion.

"We all agree," Doggo started cryptically, "The blanket smells like... Fish?!"

\-----

" _BLANKET_?" Papyrus said. It seemed to Sans as though that was all he said. It was now night, the subtle warmth of daylight long since gone. They hadn't gone back to town after the monster had seen them, and because of this hadn't eaten anything more.

" _SANS_?" Papyrus said, whining. The little sibling seemed to truly be suffering, and Sans didn't know what to do. At first, he thought they were lucky to have gotten away that easily, but when he realized that they had lost their only blanket his eyebrow ridge creased. They searched for hours before finding a little hollow in which they could huddle that kept the worse of the wind and snow out. The loss of the blanket didn't effect Sans much. It had always been his brother’s thing, though he would admit that he felt the cold a little clearer then he was used to where Papyrus' curled form normally shielded him.

Still, the blue eyed brother hadn't thought much of it beyond the blanket now being another thing they didn't have, and they were used to not having much. It wasn't until sunset, when the cold started growing colder, that he realized they were in trouble. Papyrus was shaking like a leaf, so hard that he couldn't keep hold of his brother to stay on his back. Sans started to feel more exposed than he ever had under the bare, florescent lights if his past. More vulnerable even than the times when The Scientist took him from his cell and led him to the room that smelled of alcohol and something unknown but arid, the room that had shelves and black counter tops lining the walls with gleaming metal and glass. Sans didn't like feeling this way, but the smaller skeleton kept saying that his hands were slow, and Sans didn't understand what he meant until Papyrus showed him. The flexing of the toddler's phalanges painful to watch. Papyrus switched to his blaster form after that, but Sans realized it was only causing him to grow colder faster, being in bare contact with the snow and ground.

" _hey, pap_?" Sans said, trying to mask the dread growing like a cancer in his bones, " _i'm going to carry you again._ "

The younger brother made a little upset noise and took an angry step away from Sans. He hated being picked up by the scruff.

" _we're going to go back to town..._ " Sans baited. It worked like a charm.

" _FOR MY BLANKET?_ " Was all Papyrus said.

" _yeah, pap. i hope so..._ ”

_____

Grillby couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about those young monsters. A tiny part of him felt fear, remembering how intensely the big one had stared at him, like a wild animal about to attack. Grillby knew for a fact that if he had made one wrong move that would have been exactly what had happened. Meanwhile, the larger, more reasonable part countered that a couple children couldn't hurt a hardened veteran made of fire. What were they going to do? Bite him? Grillby had never gotten a burn himself, for obvious reasons, but he had been told they were very painful.

Still... Those glowing cyan eyes. Those eyes stuck in his memory like nothing else. It took him a while to remember when he had last seen eyes like those eyes, why they bothered him so much. It was back in the war and just after the barrier formed. Back before he had learned not to leave burn marks on his bedspread. Grillby had seen very little of the war itself, just a few of the final altercations before the monsters were driven underground... But he had seen a lot of its aftermath. Enough to know that those eyes were war eyes, that those were the eyes of desperation. The eyes of someone who thought the only options were to kill or to be killed.

Perhaps he was being a little over dramatic, he told himself. And that comforted him, for a while. After all, the children were certainly able to run away fast enough... He was probably over reacting. Fire monsters always were quick to spark, he reasoned, almost jovially, though he regularly prided himself on having the utmost control over his emotions.

He nearly fell asleep after that, but just as he was drifting off, he found himself haunted by the vision of dust on his door step. Just two little piles of dust. The dream was punctuated by coughing, and after he jolted awake. It took him a several seconds to realize the coughing still echoed in his reality.

Snagging his spectacles, he went over to the window to see two huddled forms on the main road, the larger one shaking with sickness. He watched, uncertain, but grateful that the young ones might get what he left them. As the two started moving towards the alleyway, Grillby's expression shifted. One of them was on two legs... But he was certain...?

Grillby forced himself away from the window. It didn't matter. If he interfered now who knew how they might react, reminding himself of those eyes and the far stretching, empty footprints leading off to nowhere.  
_____

Sans got progressively more cautious as they neared the familiar building. It was dark now, but Sans was fearful at the thought of being seen again. So he slunk towards the alleyway, trying carefully not to drag his brother against the snow. Even from here, he could see the edge of the blanket hanging off a nearby box. Shifting into his bipedal form, he let Papyrus down and breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly became another coughing fit. Unsteady on two feet, he stumbled down to one knee as the fit subsided, Papyrus whining beside him.

He was starting to get really tired of coughing. Was this was the fourth night he'd been coughing? Or was it the third? Because there was one day when he kept feeling a tickle on his throat, but wasn't actually coughing yet, just clearing his throat a lot... That hadn't been so bad, but now the cold air made his throat and lungs hurt every time he breathed, and he was getting out of breath even faster than normal. He kept having to swallow what he'd just coughed up, too, and when he breathed really hard he made an odd little whistling noise that just seemed wrong on a fundamental level. He held a hand to his chest, briefly rubbing it. His rib cage still ached from all the coughing. Eventually, he staggered to his feet and moved forward, so preoccupied with what was in the alleyway he never noticed the soft glow from a window behind him.

The alleyway was deserted, and Sans and Papyrus walked down it timidly. As they drew closer, Sans spotted the blanket and paused. Was it a trick? He knew someone had to have put the blanket on top of the box intentionally, and suspicion coiled around his soul. He glared at his brother to stay still and found he didn't need to. Papyrus had huddled with his eyes closed against some abandoned boxes, waiting obediently as he had many times in the past few weeks. Sans felt guilty for a moment, but he was trying so hard to protect them, and Papyrus was always enthusiastic... Too enthusiastic. It wouldn't be the first time that had gotten them in trouble. He picked up a piece of rubbish nearby, and used that to pull the blanket off the box. Nothing happened, and he waited. More nothing happened. After a moment, he drew closer to pick up the blanket and...

There was food in the box. He could see it, and it was warm. He could feel the residual heat bleeding faintly from the blanket and into his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than stare at it. The food stared back. Sans hit the box on the side with his piece of rubbish and nothing happened. Was the food a trap or a puzzle? Sometimes The Scientist would give them puzzles to solve. Time them. Watch them. Those were always good days, except when they weren't. Sometimes the puzzle had some unexpected, cruel twist. Those were traps. Sans didn't know where he learned the word.

Sans’ dropped his trash and brought his hands together in front of him as his breathing hitched with indecision. He thought he heard his brother whine, probably protesting the noise, but Sans told Papyrus just to be quiet, that he'd have the blanket in a moment. Cautiously, Sans continued to investigate, poking and probing and eventually deeming the box safe enough to dig through before doing exactly that. There were rectangular things and rounded things wrapped in foil, something that he'd pulled from the garbage before, and two metal canisters, along with a small baggy of little brown pebbles that smelled meaty. They had the odd characteristic of simultaneously making his mouth water and his stomach churn, and he put them back quickly, recognizing them for what they were. Aside from food, the box was lined with a thick fabric that Sans eventually realized was another blanket and...

"papyrus!" Sans repeated excitedly, "papyrus, come here, you're gonna-"

Sans turned, and realized that his brother had slumped over in the cold snow. 

"papyrus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> [2] Grillby was alive during the war between humans and monsters.  
> Chapter 1: **Morning 1** Sans and Papyrus are sleeping in the woods when Sans awakens abruptly. It is mentioned he has a "peculiar memory". The two then head to town to scavenge for food, and Grillby spots them. Grillby offers the children food, but they run away before he can give it to them. 1595 words.  
>  Chapter 2: **Day 1 - Night 1** Grillby tells the royal guard dogs about the children, who are very concerned and promise to investigate ASAP. Dogaressa and Dogomy speak English, are the alphas of the pack, and are total love bugs. It's clear that Dogomy, if not both, want puppies. Dogomy is relatively quiet, while Dogaressa enjoys a bit of rambling and lots of sub-par jokes. Doggo is the youngest of the group, and somewhat uncertain whenever he speaks. He is the most fluent in english, and has the best sense of smell, but has poor eyesight and informs the group that the dropped blanket smells like fish. Under their advisement, Grillby leaves supplies out for the children. The boys are in rough shape when they find the supplies, and Sans is immediately suspicious of them. In the time it takes for him to decide they're safe, Papyrus succumbs to the cold. 2731 words.  
> 


	3. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a flashback and later confronts Grillby. Meanwhile, Grillby has a chat with the royal guard dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grillby: Feeding vagrant children since 20XX.
> 
> My life's a little weird right now and it's strange how the Undertale fandom has kind of become my support system outside of family and friends. Writing this has really been helping me out a lot. I hope it entertains you, and I just want to thank you for reading this. Particularly those of you who leave comments, good or bad. :-)

Sans had Papyrus wrapped up in blankets and was rubbing him fervently, though he didn't know if it would help. He remembered The Scientist doing something like this when there had been an animal birth in the laboratory and some of the offspring weren't moving on their own. The Scientist would wrap them in cloth, angle their heads down and rub, and sometimes it worked and the little animal would revive. Sometimes it didn't work.

Once The Scientist had to do this to an entire brood of something small and fuzzy, and every one of them lived. That had been one of the good days, for The Scientist. The Scientist looked so pleased with himself that Sans even worked up the courage to ask a question. Even more shockingly, The Scientist had actually answered him. The question hadn't even been important.

"what are they called?" Sans had asked, timidly. There had been a thick metal mesh, reinforced with magic between him and The Scientist, but he had still slunk to the back of his cage before asking, and made sure to speak softly enough that The Scientist could easily have ignored him. He had heard The Scientist freeze, and there was a long pause before The Scientist replied with his strange accent and cracking voice:

"Th̨es͜e͝ ̢a͢re ̵a b͞re̶eḑ ͝o҉f ̸n͘on̡-śe̷n̡ti̧ent canin̕e̡ ̷pupp͡i̷es." The Scientist had said, and Sans could hear The Scientist breath before continuing, "Th͡e͏y ̕ár̡e͘ ҉from̨ th̶e ̛ov́e̸r͘ wo̧rļd͏.͠"

Encouraged by the response, Sans had asked, "why were you rubbing them like that?"

"̶Be̵c̴a̡u̕s͜e I̵ w̶ante̕d t̷hèm̧ ̴to҉ ̀live̵." The Scientist replied.

"why?"

Sans instantly regretted the last word. Almost as soon as he said it, he heard the scientist put down whatever he had been holding with a metallic click. Sans had flinched at the noise, and pushed himself deeper into the corner, covering his head with his hands as he stared resolutely at the floor. A shadow fell over him, back so many years ago, and Sans knew that The Scientist was watching him.

"͞B̵̢é̕c̵̵a̶͝us̛e̴͝ t̀͏he̷̷͘y̢͢͠ ̀a̸͘͠r̶e̛ ̧͟͡im͠p҉o̸͢r̡̛͢t͘a͡n͟҉t̸," The scientist said, his voice hard and unforgiving. "f͝o͏r ̧͢my ̨̀͘r̢͟͞e̢͠s҉e̵arçh."

There was a long period of quiet before the scientist spoke again. His voice was quiet now, nearly as soft as Sans' own voice had been when he asked the first question,

"S̢u͜bj͠e͢ct͞ ASP-͞5̀-̡S͏?”

Sans forced himself to look upward and meet The Scientists' gaze. The Scientist was vary tall and very thin, but this had never occurred to Sans since he had never seen another monster besides The Scientist until long after that. He wore a lot of black and a lot of grey, and a white lab coat over everything else. The only color in his outfit was some form of accessory, normally a long tie, but that day Sans remembered that The Scientist had a green handkerchief folded neatly in his breast pocket. His face had been smooth back then, or at least mostly so, and on it The Scientist wore an expression that Sans couldn't put a word to. The Scientist shifted again, rocking gently on his heels, then placed one of his long fingered hands gently on the cage door.

"Wo̡uld̀ ̡ỳou ̧lik͡e ̀t͝o se͟e͞ ͢t͢he p̵up͞p̴ie҉s͘?"

Sans had nodded then, just once, trying not to seem too eager. He'd stood up slowly and walked to the front of his cage, expecting for The Scientist to move the box enough that he could see. He was surprised, then, by the gentle click of the lock coming undone before the door swung open, and The Scientist grabbed him by the wrist. As soon as this happened, Sans cringed, expecting the worst. But this had been one of the good days.

Instead of being pulled or yanked to some uncomfortable device or table with straps, Sans found The Scientist simply leading him across the room. The grip on his wrist was tight, leaving no possibility of wrenching himself free, but not painful. Finally, they reached a box which was in another walk-in cage like Sans', where an overfed black and white dog nursed three fat, spotted pups. They looked... Soft, and warm, but Sans didn't dare to reach out to try to touch them. He and The Scientist only stood like this for a few moments, perhaps five or ten minutes, before The Scientist told him he was going to his back to his kennel. Sans went without resistance and was quiet for the rest of the night, not wanting to ruin such a good day by angering The Scientist. Looking at the puppies Sans had felt an unfamiliar warm spark within himself, a tenderness he didn't experience again until The Scientist showed him Papyrus. By that time The Scientist didn't have good days very often anymore, and the cracks in his face were just starting.

The first time Sans had seen Papyrus he'd been wrapped up like he was now, except then he'd been his normal wriggly self. The Scientist had held him without any warmth on the opposite side of the barrier, showing him to Sans without permitting any chance of contact. Sans fell in love with the baby instantly, though it might have been the other way around. As soon as Papyrus saw Sans, he was waving his little hands at him, trying to touch him. Reaching out with a smile of childish delight... Sans shook. How long ago had that been? It seemed like Papyrus was so small now, but he'd been even smaller back then. Sans smiled at the memory, then bit back a tears.

"come on, pap..." He said. How long had he been rubbing like this? There was heat in his palms from all the friction, which was almost nice... But at the same time his hand bones were starting to hurt. Could you rub your bones raw? He wasn't going to stop, not until... Sans felt the slightest movement from the mass he was supporting and stopped rubbing to flip it over. Papyrus' eye lights flickered on and off for a moment, before settling on a dull but steady glow.

"papyrus?" Sans said, and the little face scrunched up in response, as though confused. Sans let out something like a sob, his face going hot as he pulled the bundle tight to his chest and relief flooded through him.

_____

Grillby woke up even earlier then he normally did the next day. He wondered if it was a mistake, since he'd hardly slept the night before, and he felt a little woozy when he first pushed himself out of bed. But his own troubles were quickly forgotten as he regained enough consciousness to recall the details of the day before. After he'd woken up from that terribly nightmare, he sorted through his junk cabinet for suitable clothes. Nothing special, just items he'd collected over years and years of running a joint that many people only passed through and sometimes left parts of themselves behind in. He had a proper lost and found in the bar, of course, but eventually it was just impractical to leave an item there, and he couldn't quite bring himself to throw away something that he still felt belonged to someone else.

From it he'd managed to pull a rather thin jacket Grillby thought was better suited for Waterfall, several mismatched gloves, as well as a large, well worn, but soft and warm blue hoodie. The crowning gem, he decided, was a children's book that came with a matching stuffed toy. Grillby reflected for a moment on his own age. The set was so spectacular he'd kept it in the restaurant for long enough for people to stop commenting on it, hoping that someone would arrive to claim it as their own. After that, it sat in his cabinet for who knows how long, and Grillby realized that whoever its original owner was probably well past full grown now. Maybe they had children of their own now. He glanced at the rest of the items, too, wondering how long they've been there before getting ready to pack them up.

Some of the clothing needed to be washed, and at some point one of the stuffed toy's eyes had come loose and he would have to repair it, so he set those aside for later. He placed what was left clean in a box with another couple blankets, and just because he could some paper and a pack of crayons he kept around for when relatives visited. Carrying it to the bar, he entered through the back, looking carefully for any sights of the two figures he'd seen in the night. Alas, there was again thick snowfall, and the alleyway appeared smooth and undisturbed. He wouldn't have known they'd come, for sure, if the supplies he'd left the night before hadn't vanished.

_____

Sans didn't dare to move Papyrus very far after he nearly fell, at least not as far as the thick pine forest they had been hiding in before. Though he had hated the idea of it, Sans realized that they had to spend at least the night in town. He'd searched around cautiously, carrying Papyrus wrapped tight in both blankets before finding a desolate strip of trees growing at the edge of town. Then he'd made a proper shelter for the night. One blanket lined the floor beneath a roof of cardboard, propped up by branches and packed snow. The other blanket was just for Papyrus, as it always had been. The had eaten the rectangles, but Sans saved the rest of food for later, burying it in the snow nearby. Soon, Papyrus was asleep, but Sans just... Couldn't. He was too afraid of being found. Still, it was the best night he'd had in a while, protected somewhat from the freezing weather and without an empty belly.

Sometime before dawn, he noticed the first sign of movement in the morning. It was the same monster he'd seen the morning before, and he was carrying a box very much like the one Sans had found last night. It occurred to Sans again that someone had to have intentionally left what they had found, and his eye lights went out as he thought about it.

What... What could he want? The Monster dressed a little like The Scientist, all black and white except for a blue pinstripe bow tie. Maybe... Sans shivered. He looked over at Papyrus before wrapping himself around the smaller being. With the first glimmerings of sunlight, Sans dozed off into an unsteady sleep.

_____

Grillby noticed the Royal Guard Dogs were talking more than normal, their Pekingese tones darker than usual, punctuated more with growls than anything else. Curious and worried that it might have something to do with the children, he finished serving Red Bird before taking off his apron and heading towards their table. They were talking too quickly and too fluidly for him to catch anything, so he just stood there patiently until they noticed him.

The conversation only seemed to be escalating, Dogomy and, even more surprisingly Lesser Dog both raising their voices far above the gentle, ever present conversation in Grillby's. Grillby had seen Dogomy angry before - it happened rarely, but almost always spectacularly - but he had always considered the quiet, cheerful presence of Lesser Dog as a bit of an outsider in the pack. Now her teeth were partially bared, and Greater Dog had one paw on her shoulder, as though trying to calm her. Finally, Dogaressa gave a decisive huff, and the conversation ended abruptly. The dogs separated, and Grillby noticed lesser dog look at him before she left, a torn, guilty look on her face as soon as her aggression subsided. Only Dogaressa and Dogomy remained at the table.

"Sorry about that, Grillby," She said, after a few quiet moments where she sighed, then turned to face him. "What's up, pup?-"

Dogomy interrupted by giving a little teasing whine, trying to lighten the mood by pretending to be deeply wounded. Though Grillby's mouth twitched with the barest of smiles, Dogressa's frown only deepened. Dogomy twitched his ears and fell apologetically silent.

"Have you learned more about the puppies?"

"I saw them last night, and they took the supplies I left out for them. The snow fall was heavy, though, and I don't think there are any new clues left out there after it." Grillby said, relieved that nothing bad had happened to the children, but still curious, "Honestly, I was wondering what you were talking about."

"Ah, that." Dogaressa said, gravely, "Well, as you say it's been snowing a lot more than normal lately. Some people think it's because more steam is being output by the core these days, but I don't know if that's true – leave it to the scientist, right? Not that the reason matters, anyway, the situation is still the same. Some of the edges of the cavern have gone unstable, and we're worried that all this extra snow might cause some of them to crumble. We get enough boulders crashing around and..."

She looked pained for a moment, before continuing, "Grillby, I know you're worried, but..."

"It's the Royal Guard's duty to protect all of the underground." Grillby gave her a forced, but understanding smile. He wasn't pleased about the news, but based on the tone of the conversation before none of them were. Besides, Dogaressa had always been a loyal friend. If she had to prioritize the safety of the entire underground before a situation that she couldn't do anything about right now anyway, he trusted her judgement enough not to hold it against her.

"Thanks, Grillby. You really are a sweetheart." Dogaressa said, "We'll sniff around the alleyway before we leave. It'll be at least two days before we get back, but we might find something important we would've lost otherwise."

Grillby didn't respond quickly enough to thank her back or claim it was 'no problem' and still have it sound genuine. If he was honest, his heart wouldn't have been in it. Instead, there was an awkward moment where the three of them just stood here, before Grillby said, "How about I send you all off with some of that special soup? House treat, to keep your strength up and keep you warm while you work."

_____

That night, Sans told Papyrus to stay in their shelter. He wanted to check the alleyway, but was coughing so regularly now that any chance of stealth was virtually eliminated, and he didn't want Papyrus there if it was a trap. Sans knew The Monster knew about them.

Just as he expected, there was another box waiting for them in the alleyway. Sans didn't even look at what it had in it, instead, he paced around it nervously, looking for any sign of tampering. Eventually he found another long item, this time a stick, and gave this box a similar treatment as he gave the first. Nearly an hour passed, and he hadn't found anything suspicious, and cautiously dug through it. Food. Blankets. Garments like the one he'd seen monsters wear. Sans pushed the box away from him and clutched his head.

Blankets... Good food... Clothing...

The puppies...

...Papyrus...

All of these were in exchange for something. They were always in exchange for something. That was fine. Sans just didn't take the bait if the cost was too high, unless it involved his brother. He would do anything for his brother, The Scientist had known that. But that was just it, he hadn't taken the bait when he had been dealing with The Scientist in the white-walled rooms lined with shelves and black-topped counters. Now was different. Now he was free, whatever that meant… And now he was alone, except for his brother who needed Sans to care for him.

Now, he had no clue what the cost was going to be. But he knew the bait were things that he, and that Papyrus, needed. Things he couldn’t refuse.

Sans started coughing.

_____

Without the dogs around, Grillby's day passed quieter than normal. He was relieved in the morning to find his package had vanished again, but a little disappointed that the dogs weren't around to investigate. Though the fine details were filled in, there were clearly some footprints left in the snow along one side of the alleyway, where the side of the building sheltered the ground from the falling snow. Otherwise, the alleyway was as it always had been, flat and blank. Grillby hadn't had time to wash and repair the other items yet, but he spent the extra time he had without serving the royal guard dogs in the kitchen, making the children a particularly nice and nutritious meal, even if it was most likely to be eaten cold. He left it in the usual spot, unaware that he was being watched intently.

By the next morning, Grillby had washed the hoodie and was carrying it along with an old pillow to the back entrance of Grillby's. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of a pillow before, maybe just because it didn't strike him as a necessary item. He was feeling a little accomplished with himself, when he turned the corner to stop dead in his tracks. The food he had prepared the night before sat in the alleyway untouched. He approached the carryout containers slowly, searching the ground for any sign that the children had even been there, but he found none. Then again, it was still snowing. Some of the flakes were so large that they even made a faint sizzling sound when they met his skin.

Grillby bent over to pick the containers up, and that's when he noticed a gentle blue light casting its hue over his own illumination in the dark of early morning. He stopped again, positioned awkwardly without any idea where the blue-eyed monster might be, but he didn't want to antagonize it. Keeping his body in the same position, Grillby turned his head to look around, finally spotting a figure still half-hid behind his dumpster.

He was surprised, but not startled, to see a small bipedal skeleton staring at instead of the four-legged beast he was expecting. Gauging its expression, Grillby allowed himself to shift to a more comfortable position, but didn't make any motion to draw himself up to full height. Instead, he bent over to one knee, bracing himself with one arm while making sure to keep it perfectly visible. He knew this was the same monster, even if it didn't look the same. The one with the war eyes. Grillby just watched him and waited.

After a short staring contest, the little monster shifted and shook, clearly trying to contain a cough and failing. When he did cough, Grillby shuttered at the noise. It was gelatinous, one of those coughs where you can feel the liquid in your own lungs just by listening to it, though Grillby didn't have lungs to begin with. Actually, he wondered how the Skeleton could either...

"what do you want?"

The skeleton spoke so quietly that Grillby could barely hear them. It was a boy's voice, so purposefully aloof that it betrayed more emotion then anything else could have.

"Huh?" Grillby said, almost reflexively. The skeleton looked at him blankly. He tried again, "What did you say?"

"i asked what you want," The child replied, his soft voice still palpably serious, "because i know you've been leaving us things."

"I..." Grillby replied, shocked. He simply didn't know what to say. What did he want?

"I want to help you."

"help... us?"

"Yes. You and the other monster-” Grillby struggled to speak. The obvious sickness of the child, his size, his obvious fear and suspicion… It tore pity from his core. He was stuck, unable to try to help in fear that the boy would run away. “Are they your sibling?"

Sans thought about it, but didn't bother correcting him. Should he answer the question?

"yeah. my brother."

"Ah." Was all that Grillby said.

"why?" the child asked, "why do you want to help us?"

"Because you..." Grillby had a million things to finish that with, "were rooting through my garbage cans for food."

The skeleton squinted his eyes. He seemed like he was about to say something, when another coughing fit overtook him. He staggered for a moment and leaned his weight against the dumpster. As the child seemed to gasp between bouts of coughing, Grillby came near instinctively, all past cautions forgotten. As soon as he touched the child, they pulled away, but were coughing too hard to go far and Grillby hushed them, grabbing their arm to turn them so he could support them and pat their back, hoping to dislodge the congestion or at least provide some comfort. The child's eye flashed yellow, and as soon as he could manage it he struggled, pushing away from Grillby with an unexpectedly sudden force. Though Grillby tried to stop him, the child wriggled free and ran out the alley. Grillby rushed to follow, but as soon as he turned the corner the child was gone.

There were no footprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> [2] Grillby was alive during the war between humans and monsters.  
> Chapter 1: **Morning 1** Sans and Papyrus are sleeping in the woods when Sans awakens abruptly. It is mentioned he has a "peculiar memory". The two then head to town to scavenge for food, and Grillby spots them. Grillby offers the children food, but they run away before he can give it to them. 1595 words.  
>  Chapter 2: **Day 1 - Night 1** Grillby tells the royal guard dogs about the children, who are very concerned and promise to investigate ASAP. Under their advisement, Grillby leaves supplies out for the children. The boys are in rough shape when they find the supplies, and Sans is immediately suspicious of them. In the time it takes for him to decide they're safe, Papyrus succumbs to the cold. 2731 words.  
>  Chapter 3: **Night 1 - Morning 4** Sans had a flashback about Gaster showing him puppies while trying to revive Papyrus. It's revealed that at one point, Gaster had a bit of mercy in him, but that as time went on he went progressively more cold and had fewer "Good Days". Due to Papyrus' condition, they are forced to stay in town. At the time Gaster showed him the puppies, Sans had never seen another Monster. Grillby wakes up the next day and makes another pack of supplies, and Sans watches his with suspicion. Later that day, Grillby gets the unfortunate news that the royal guard dogs need to leave town to do maintenance on the caverns. Sans comes to the conclusion that Grillby has to want something, and attempts to confront him about it. 3528 words.  
> 


	4. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a bad time. Grillby has two bad times. Everyone has a bad time. It's like an episode of Oprah, where she's giving out bad times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support, guys. I haven't really slept in a while so expect lots of bad grammar and typos. If you spot any, please comment them so I can fix them. Thanks.
> 
> I'm [VoodooScienceLies](http://voodoosciencelies.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you wanna ask me questions there. :-)
> 
> [Random thing for your entertainment.](http://brantsteele.net/hungergames/r.php?c=GyyF468s)

Sans collapsed into the cold, thick snow face first. He winced when it touched his bare bone and hated himself for it. This is the first time in a long time that the cold had bothered him. He wanted to pull away from it, but movement seemed impossible. Everything about him seemed heavy, and in this moment, he considered just closing his eyes... But then he remembered Papyrus, who was waiting in the cardboard shelter for him to return and pushed himself up. The world swam for a moment as he sat up, realizing, with sudden fear that he was up high, far removed from the ground he could see over the edge of a dead, empty drop off. It took him still more time to realize that he was actually on top of one of the town’s buildings, and that he could still see The Monster from here, whose warmth he imagined he could still feel lingering on his back though it had already dissipated. He waited, shivering and watching as The Monster searched for him before going back into the restaurant.

Sans tried to stand up after the door closed behind The Monster, but the roof of the building was sloped and he slipped, sending a sheet of snow along with himself cascading off the building, before landing half encased in snow with a damp thump on the ground. The air knocked out of him, he let out a moan, considering again the viability of going to sleep. A light from the building flickered on above him, and he froze, a whisper of voices rising over the wind. They quieted, and then lights turned off and the house darkened.

Sans moved as fast as he could force himself to move. It was a struggle just to stay upright, his strength sapping as the amount of magic he'd spent caught up to him. He saw the shelter, and a faint orange glow inside it just before Papyrus dashed out in his quadrupedal form. The younger brother has always been much larger and steadier in this form. Sans knew he was as well, but he lacked even the small amount of energy needed to spark the cascade of magic that allowed him to transform. When his brother reached him, Sans leaned heavily for support and was half walked, half dragged into the shelter. He fell on his back and let to world spin around him. Then Papyrus is looking down at him and Sans wondered when Papyrus shifted back into his skeleton form and when he wrapped Sans in a blanket.

"SANS?" He said, questioningly. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Sans starts, on impulse, to shush him, but stops just before the harsh noise escapes him. There isn't any reason too. There isn't anyone listening now. They're free. Sans starts hiccupping with laughter. He didn’t really know what he's laughing at, but it feels great and terrible at the same time, the gasps between his long strings of chuckles tearing at his insides, causing him to start coughing with his laughter. It’s the concept of freedom, he realized, it’s hysterical.

"BROTHER?" Papyrus said, his voice as quiet as it gets. He sounds like he used to in the laboratory, when The Scientist was watching them.

Sans looked at Papyrus. His eyes were wide and still glowing orange. He's terrified. Papyrus is terrified and just... Staring at him. Suddenly Sans thought of how long he left Papyrus alone, how he must have felt when he saw Sans stumbling back to the shelter barely able to keep himself upright. He stopped laughing abruptly, but he still coughed, nearly winded. After the fit passed, Sans gave one last forced string of chuckles, and knew they sounded more like a sobs.

"i'm fine, paps." Sans said, rolling over and pulled the blanket tighter around him, his eye lights fading as he rested.

Papyrus watched him silently, alone now, and terrified. Sans was still grinning even in his unconsciousness. It was disconcerting whenever he grinned like this, but Papyrus could never figure out exactly why. All he knew was that his brother always grinned, it was just what he did. He also knew that his brother almost never smiled.

\-----

Grillby couldn't help but feel puzzled over the child's disappearance. It was as though the blue eyed skeleton has simply vanished into thin air. Still, now he had something to tell the Royal Guard Dogs once they got back. He was tempted to investigate on his own. The children must have a shelter nearby, he reasoned, since they had reliably taken his offerings of food and supplies until... Until this morning. He worried what they would do now, if they had enough to keep them warm and to eat without what he had wanted to leave them. He left the hoodie and the pillow outside, next to the old food containers as he made a fresh meal to leave the children after the breakfast rush. Maybe they were brave enough to visit in daylight? He doubted it, but didn't want to leave nothing out for them.

He hadn't gotten close enough to notice before this morning, but the blue eyed one, at least, was in rough shape. Grillby still hadn't gotten a good look, but he did get close enough to see the warps in the bone and hairline fractures spreading across the white bone like ice crystals across a window plane. And that cough. It was a wet, painful cough. He'd heard that kind of cough before in Snowdin from patrons with pneumonia. 

Grillby was so lost in thought that at first it didn't register when there was frantic scratching at his door before Doggo burst in. The guard dog was panting heavily, clearly having run all the way here. There was even snow between his front paw pads, indicating that he was so rushed as to even resort to running on all fours.

"Grillby," he yelped, "We need you! There was a cave in and-"

Grillby had already dropped what he was doing and was rushing for the door, but not before snagging a couple blankets and towels with notable burn holes from behind the counter. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten called out like this. Cave ins, though rare, occasionally occurred, and when one hit Snowdin or a nearby area, it could be disastrous for anyone trapped beneath the rubble. Hypothermia could set in quickly if someone was trapped beneath frozen rocks and snow. 

Grillby had lived here for a very long time, longer than most monsters could remember, and he knew by now what a difference he could make with a literal body of flame. Sometimes he was the difference between life and death after a cave in. Other times he was not.

Regardless of his failures, trying to help people whenever he could was his only method of atoning for his past sins. It was half the reason he had settled in Snowdin, the other half had been his yearning for peace and quiet after the years of his chaotic upbringing. Here the people were kindhearted and gentle, the most rabble-rousing activity the occasional non-consensual decorating of the Gyftrot. For the most part, entertainment meant puzzles or jokes, or, ever since he had been here, a visit to the local Bar and Grill(by's). Grillby had made friends here, families of them, and though he still occasionally (though less and less often with every passing decade) was told an elemental like him was better suited to Hotland, it was abundantly clear that Grillby had become part of Snowdin's charm.

It wasn't very far at all to where the cave in had happened, but Grillby started at the size of it. It seemed as though half the underground had fallen in on itself, though that was impossible. He wondered if the scene was so impressive simply because of where it had occurred, on a flat and treeless clearing. Regardless, Dogaressa hadn't been hyperbolizing the danger, and Grillby wondered how much of a chance there was in of another collapse happening after this one had only further destabilized the area. He dismissed the thought quickly though, focusing instead on what he had been sent for to do. He could see Dogaressa in the background, madly dashing over fallen ruble as she searched the area but dismissed her entirely. He didn't have a dog’s nose and was no use when it came to finding people. Instead he went straight to Greater Dog, who was whimpering, the limp form of Lesser in his paws.

"How long ago did this happen?" Grillby asked.

"Maybe two hours ago," Doggo replied, panting heavily with stress and exertion, "All of us were trapped beneath the ice, but luckily no civilians. Me and Dogaressa were close enough to Greater that he was able to dig us out."

Grillby didn't reply, instead stooping to take Lesser's body from Greater Dog. She seemed uninjured, save for a few small gashes here and there, and some nasty dents in her armor, but Grillby knew that the cold may easily have claimed her already. While the dogs had fur, the armor also conducted the cold remarkable well, particularly if they had worked up a sweat beneath it through hard labor.

"Greater, you go help Dogressa. I've got her." He said, "Doggo, you need to go find a doctor. There's one in Waterfall."

The dogs didn't argue, they simply did as he told them to without their alphas around to give the orders. Grillby focused on warming Lesser as he peeled her freezing armor off, wrapping her in one of his blankets as he did so. He was relieved to find a pulse and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight as he did his best to warm her without burning her. He thought he felt her stir, if only a little, just before Dogressa gave a mournful howl.

There was the sound of an axe on ice, before the shifting of rock and one of the dogs in the distance shrieking. It was an ungodly noise, and Grillby found himself on edge for the first time in a long time, adrenaline sparking his flames higher. He felt like he needed to act, but Lesser dog was still pathetically slack in his arms. The grinding of rocks continued, the shrieking reaching new heights as one of the dogs cried out in pain, grating against Grillby’s senses. Finally, Grillby wrapped Lesser up tight and left her, praying that he wasn't making a mistake as unease and fear surfaced within his core.

Scrambling over the fallen ruble without regard to his own safety, Grillby rounded a particularly large rock to find Dogomy was the one producing the dreadful noise. He was slowly being crushed by what seemed like a mountain of ice, his wife hitting it with her axe uselessly, her love for Dogomy making the normally level headed and logical alpha lash out without clear intent. Greater dog was nearby, straining as he tried to prevent a pile of boulders from collapsing in on them, making Dogomy's rescue impossible... Or pointless.

Grillby simply stood for a moment, terrified for Monsters whose puppy love he had watched blossom in one of the back stalls of his establishment, whose accomplishments and anniversaries he had smiled at and celebrated with them. He could see that Greater couldn't last much longer, even the strongest of the guard dogs trembling under the terrible weight of stone and ice, that Dogomy was to panicked and in too much pain to do much to save himself, and that Dogaressa's rage was only worsening the situation, her mad heroics putting herself in the way of danger.

"Stand back," he said, grabbing Dogaressa's shoulder as she prepared to strike again. The alpha snapped at him, her eyes narrowed aggressively and full of tears before she realized in was him. She still tried to pull away, but Grillby spoke again.

"I'm going to try to melt him out. You'll still have to break the ice directly encasing him, but I can weaken it so that you can rescue him."

The alpha took silent step back. Grillby breathed deeply, his flames welling up momentarily before he focused all his magic forward. Dogomy cried louder as the torrent of flames struck above him, too blinded by shock and pain to realize he wasn't being injured. Grillby felt that it wasn't enough and started to summon more heat from his core, his feet sizzling in the snow around him. He remained silent as water pooled at his feet, extinguishing his flame and exposing his raw core to the cold and the wet, channeling the pain he felt into yet more heat, into the stream of magic he was directing through his arms to the ice.

The heat was immense. Even the devoted alpha backed off further, instinctively weary of the flame. In such a fire, Grillby stopped breathing, the ebb and flow of his flames no longer mattering as his fires scorched the atmosphere, tearing the oxygen from it like a tiger in the night. Where did the elemental end in the magic begin? Even Grillby himself began to wonder, his humanoid form loosening as more of his consciousness slipped into his attack, his white shirt singing an ashy gray, then black. Finally, he pulled back, stumbling for a moment as he watched the scene before him.

Dogaressa rushed forward and broke her mate free of what little ice remained. It was easy, though Dogomy still whined with pain even as the weight was lifted and his battered body was dragged from the rubble. His facial fur was singed, and it was almost certain that much of his exposed skin was burnt, but most of it wouldn't scar permanently. What would was still better than the alternative.

Grillby fell to his knees, flinching as more of his flames flickered out in the slush below him and his core sizzled raw and angry. If he had proper lungs, he would be panting. As it was, his flames were flickering sporadically as he struggled to reclaim himself. He had done it. A vague sense of pride welled behind the exhaustion, and he ran one hand over his blazing head before straightening his glasses. Beneath him, there was an ominous cracking just before Greater Dog yelped a warning just a moment too late.

The ice gave way, and Grillby fell into the lake below.

\-----

Sans woke up. Papyrus was gone. He panicked, and looked around to realize that the white surrounding him, which he had first mistaken for snow, was actually the familiar plain white walls of the laboratory. If he strained, he could just barely see the black counter top with its many glinting objects. He wasn't able to move his head because it was strapped to the metal table, and he stopped struggling with the realization. It is an odd sensation, to have your panic subside yet have your fear remain just as intense as it was before, but it was one Sans was used to.

He knew that the snow and the cold had been a dream, and not the first of its type. He often dreamed of other places, an outside world he hardly thought existed. He knew that the strange fire monster didn't exist, that a monster would never want to help something like him. It was a good dream, while it lasted, but he knew where he was now, and that this was just another a bad day.

As expected, The Scientist stepped into view. He was even taller than Sans remembered, and oddly wider, too, more intimidating. His eyes were purple and his tie was red. In one hand he held an old tape recorder, in the other, a scalpel. He was already speaking when he appeared, but Sans didn't hear him approach. He simply came into existence, and Sans started to consider this, before deciding it hardly mattered. The Scientist's voice was hollow and monotone, like many of The Echoes Sans used to talk to in the nights before Papyrus came.

"..̷.t͘h̴e one-̴h͜un̛d͜red̢-an͏d-tw͠en̷t̕y̛-th͢ir҉d̸ ąt̛t̡em̡p̡t̵ ̴at ͏cr̀èátin͝g̕ ̷a͢ņ a̷r͝ti̢fi͟c̸i͘al̷ sou̧l, ̨t̷h̷e f҉i̡f̵ty-fi͘rs͘t ̷s͘u̕çce͢ss̢fu͜l͠ly͞ ̕c͘ult͢u͘red soul͞,͜ th͝irteen͘t͠h t̵o b̧e ͞su̶c̛cessf̕u͡l͘l҉y t͠ra̧nsfe͝rre҉d t͠o̢ ̢a̸ su͜r̢r̸og͏ate͟ ̨boḑy̢ f̛o̢r͢ g͟rowth,̵ a̡n̸d̸ ҉th͘e ͢f͠ist̸ t̴o ̷ga͏in̡ con͝s̸cio̷usn҉es͜s.́ Ho̕n͝és͏tly͠,͏ the̶ me̷re ̵e͏x̧is̵t҉en̴ce of ́the ̷s͠pe҉c͢im̀ȩn̷ ͡i͡n̛ ŗém̶ark͠a͡bļe, but͡ ͠térm̸i̷n͏a̷tio͡n͏ ̛is r͟eq̡u̢i̷r͢ed͜ ͞i̵n ord̷e̕ŗ ̨to ͟co̕ntinu͢e͞ ̢t͝he ̢p͝roj̀e̴ct ̢wi̧t҉h͢ an̴y̴ h͟o̧p̀e̸ o͢f͜ a͢c̕h́i̛ȩv̧i͡nģ s͜iḿilar̛ ͘r̡esults̴." The Scientist was saying into the recorder. He put it down on a small wheeled white tray before rolling the whole thing closer to table. Sans' couldn't see it, bound as he was, but he knew the tray held various medical equipment. The scalpel was placed on it with a muffled clink, the sound of metal hitting something hard through some form of cloth.

"̶O͏f co̧ur҉se ̨creatin̴g ͠a ͢c̨o̢n͢sc̶i̸ous̶n̴es̀s ͠wa̕s͝n'͞t͡ ͏th͡e̛ ͢orig͝i̴n̡al ̨in̨ţen̢t͏ ͝of̀ ̶t̸h͏e progr̛am.͠.. ̵B̴u̡t̷ it̨ is a ͡ve̴ry inter͞est͢in͝g b͏y͏pr̨o͝d̵u͠ct̴ ţh͟a̧t m̢áy ̢ļead͟ t̛o ͞t̶h͠e̢ a҉d̀va̧ncemȩn͡t҉s͢ ͟in ҉s̢òu̢l҉ m͡od̢i͟f̛i͢c̢a͘ti͟on ͝w̵e̶ ̡a̵i̷m ̧to͝ ҉ac̡h͟iev͠e. ̀Íf̸ we ͜c͘an͢ cr̷ea̸te͘ ͜a̴ fu͏l͡l͠y ̢f͏ųn̷cti͢onin͞g ̷s͞ou̕l̨,͠ ̕it ̕wou̢ld̢ b͞e͏ ͝lo͝g͞i͘cál ͝to̶ as̕sume wè ca͞ń ͏con̵t̶rǫl ́i͜t͢'ś ̧a̧t́tŕibu͠tes͞." There was a small, thoughtful pause as The Scientist checked his lab coat was fully buttoned before pulling on gloves, "͘A͜nỳwa̢y,̢ Ì'm ŕam̀bl͜ing͡.͏.. An͏y͠o͘n͘e͝ lis͠te͠n͢íng͡ ţo͢ th̷i҉s҉ ͡h҉a͟s prob҉ab͝l͡y list̀en͝ed to o̴r͞ r̵ȩad̡ ͜my͝ ̴pre͞v̀i͏o͠ưs͘ ̢ent̵r̵i͝e̷s̵ ̸o͘n͟ ́the͡ to͘p̸i͟c. No͟ ͝n͟eed͠ ͡to҉ bé red͠u̵n͘d̴a͡n̨t̴, ̸I su͝pp̛o̧s̛e.̡"

The Scientist turned away and wandered from Sans' line of view. Sans' struggled, briefly, knowing that there was no chance of his bonds being lose or broken, but having to try anyway, just so long as The Scientist didn't see him. There was a click, a brief high-pitched whir, and The Scientist was approaching him again. Sans forced himself to relax. It made it easier. The Scientist had a medical face visor on now, and looked at his watch with a rather bored expression.

"Sa͢c̵ri̷f͘ice in̛ìti̧at͞ed̕ a͠t ̀t͢h̀re̡e͡-t͟hi̵r͘t̨y̶-͟f̸oúŗ ̡PM.̀"

Sans' eyes widened. Sacrifice. He was familiar with that term and it sent his mind racing again, panic resolidifying like a cancer in his bones. He knew what _that_ meant. He _k n e w_. He knew. 

There was no way to stop it. He was dead, he was dead, he was dead, he was dead... But... The dogs... The dogs were... Sans started to struggle violently against his bonds. If he escaped he could - But he knew he wouldn't escape - couldn't escape - But trying to hide it from The Scientist had been a mistake. When he saw he would take the needle or the gas and-

The Scientist noticed Sans' useless struggles, but seemed unperturbed. He continued speaking, "S͠ubj̴ect̵ ̧AS͟P-͟5-S͟ has̸ ͏b͠e͟e͠n͏ ̧s̵e̴cùred to͡ a͘ m͝e̸tal gurne͞y ̨to̵ p̧r̵e͜ve͠nt-̷"

"no! no, no, no no no no... you can't- i want-" Sans shouted, cutting the scientist off, but none of what he started to say made sense. The Scientist _could_ , and what Sans _wanted d i d n ' t m a t t e r_. He knew that. Finally, Sans said something coherent.

"you made a mistake! i'm still awake! you made the dogs go to sleep when w-"

"̷S҉u҉bj͜e̶c̨t Ś,́ ́b̀e͢ ͝qu͏ièt̴ .̡ ̵ no ͟er̵roŕ ͞ha҉s͡ ̷b̢e͠én ma̴d͟e. ͏I͡t̢'s̀ si̵m͡p͏ly a ̵ẃa̵s҉te͡ o͢f̷-"

" **no**!" Sans screamed. He hadn't even known he could call out that loudly, and it made his throat hurt almost instantly. "please! you have to-"

Sans' pleas were cut short as something was unceremoniously stuffed into his mouth. It was a large sheet of fabric, wrinkling as it was stuffed through his maw. He could feel it slide through his mandible with a sickeningly smooth motion as The Scientist pulled it downward, effectively quieting him. He was crying now, unable even to sob as The Scientist fixed him with a disapproving stare.

"Húsh,̀ ̧n̨ow͞, S̕. ̷Don'̡t̴ b͝e͞ ̴şo̴ fơolish. Įt͞'s n̵ot ͢l̛i̴k̛ȩ you're a͢ real mo̧n͝s̀t̢er͘.͢ ͠I don't h͜a̶ve͞ ҉any r̸ęa͟s͞o̴n͡ ͠t͢o was͘te re͝sourc͟es on҉ ͡y͡ou͜.͢" The Scientist said, turning back to his tape recorder. "So̡r̀r͢y abou͏t͠ ͟that.͢ ͠It̕ ̛w̨a͡s̛ ͠necessàry to ̶g͏a͟g ͏th̛e ̢s҉ub͝ject ̧b͜efor̢e̕ we̵ co̡u̴l҉d c͟ǫn̡tin͞ue.̀ ̨W͝he͘re was ͝I?͜ Ah, ̛yès̵. T̛o ͏pr͞e͘v̛e͏nt̵ a͟n҉y̛ un͝neces͘s̢ár҉y ̡ri͝sk̵ ҉t̢o t͞h͝e s͡o͡ul b̢ȩi̶n͝g̀ ̴e͘xtr͠a̵ct͞ȩd͡.̶ ̶"

Sans' bones hurt where the bindings were tightest as he tried to thrash about. He was tiring now. He had always tired quickly. Before very long he simply twitched erratically as The Scientist continued to ready his equipment, his head spinning because he couldn’t get enough air. It was the fabric, still silky smooth and slick between his teeth, brushing against his vertebra as it hung loose against the back of his throat, choking him. Silencing him. Stilling him. All Sans wanted was unconsciousness, but no matter how he struggled, the maddening spin wouldn’t turn to darkness, wouldn’t let him escape.

When The Scientist turned back, he had changed. He was wearing a striped bow tie and his lab coat had vanished.

"I am̧ now҉ b̨eginn̷ing̨ ̷the f̢i҉rs͠t͡ la͡ţe̛r͢a͜l ̵cu̴t ͟to̧ ̀the̢ ab͢do̶men͡,͞" The scientist said. Sans could see fire in the wide, deep cracks of The Scientist's face. There were little flames in the center of his porcelain head. Little flames dancing behind the purple pinpricks of eyes.

"Th͜is ̧ẃi̷ll̡ ͞a͘l̴lo̵w͜ me to access..."

The Scientist's words were drown out by the sounds of the small rotary saw shrieking against bone.

Sans woke up. Papyrus was gone.

\-----

Papyrus knew that Sans was unwell. He had known from the moment Sans started coughing, but had forced himself not to show that he worried about it. This was the way things worked for Papyrus. He had to stay cheerful for Sans, keep needing things from Sans, because otherwise - he didn't want to think about what happened otherwise. But the laughing fit paired with Sans’ obviously failing health broke him, broke his cheerful demeanor and ability to pretend that everything was going to be alright, that Sans was going to be able to take care of them both. He hadn't seen his brother that bad since... Since?

Papyrus frowned in frustration. He knew he had seen Sans that unstable since Doctor Gaster - Sans hated when Papyrus called him that, so he corrected himself - since The Scientist had taken him out of the room for a really, really long time. Papyrus didn't know exactly how long. Time was almost meaningless in the lab, unless you could see one of the clocks, and you couldn't from the bare white room with the two large observation windows that they were kept in. Papyrus didn't know what had happened, either, only that Sans never stopped muttering through the night, never stopped making noises… He hadn't slept or eaten or anything before The Scientist came and took him again.

The Scientist almost always took Sans. Papyrus didn't know why. Papyrus didn't know a lot of things. Most of what he did know came from Sans. He loved his brother, which was a word Sans had called him but couldn't really explain, because he didn't really know what it meant or where it came from. But he knew that Sans kept a lot of things from him. He couldn't begin to imagine how much. Papyrus tried not to pry.

He had, once, after one of the occasions that Doctor Gaster - no, The Scientist - had taken him out of the room and had left Sans. But that had not went well. It was the only time that Papyrus could remember Sans looking at him, not through him or past him, with his bright cyan eyes. After that, Papyrus tried his best to put his faith in Sans, to be cheerful and optimistic, and to give the older skeleton what he needed to continue.

Sans was still asleep after last night, and Papyrus realized that he hadn't brought any food with him when he came home. He could tell Sans wasn't going to wake up for a very long time, because he had always slept for much, much longer after draining his magic reserved back when they were in the laboratory. Papyrus took the opportunity to investigate the town alone for the first time in the early dawn. He went away from their normal route, sticking close to the edge of town so he could run away quickly if need be. Eventually he came to a big building that smelt, for lack of a better term, sweet. There was a rabbit Monster outside, and she and Papyrus both froze when they saw each other at the same time.

The rabbit monster was tall, with large haunches and an uncharacteristically flat face. She wore the same look Sans had sometimes when his eye glowed, but softer, less fearful, before she smiled and giggled a little.

"Why, hello!" She said, "You must be new around here!"

She had a funny voice, high pitched and bubbly with just a hint of nasal. Papyrus liked it and hated it at the same time, it was unusual. He thought about running, that is what Sans would tell him to do. Instead, he wagged his tail.

"You're young... Probably still only speak Pekingese, don't you? Well, I guess I shouldn't say. I don't know much about you dogs, myself!" She said, "But you should probably go back to your family. They're going to worry if they wake up and don't find you. Do you need any help? I heard puppies develop differently from other monsters, but..."

Papyrus wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was sniffing the air curiously. Suddenly, The Rabbit let out a little gasp.

"Oh! You were following your nose, weren't you sweetheart? Here, have one - I've got more than enough cinnamon bunnies for all my little nieces and nephews, it won't be missed, and I even made it myself!"

She held something out to him and Papyrus backed away. Then he sniffed and realized that it was the smell. He darted forward to grab the treat, and devoured it without thinking. The Rabbit could nearly see the stars in his eyes.

"Oh, my..." She said, "Did you like it?"

Papyrus nodded vigorously, prompting another little giggle.

"Good," she said. "I'm glad, now go on back to your home little fellow!"

Before she could say another word, he galloped off. He could barely walk as a skeleton, but as a dog he was surprisingly swift despite his odd proportions. It helped that he was delighted. She had been nice! Really, truly nice. That meant that Sans was wrong. There were some monsters out there they could trust. He'd always known it, but... But until The Monster had started leaving food out for them he had started to wonder. He could see the signs of the approaching sun and quickened his pace, racing to where The Monster left them things before going back to the shelter.

As he approached the cardboard lean-to, he heard Sans crying out in fear and anguish. With a bolt of concern, Papyrus rushed over. He found his older brother was balled up on himself, clutching at his head, his fingers curved painfully, scrapping against his skull as he sobbed. Sans was shaking as though the world were falling apart around him, his eyes darting about, searching for demons that weren’t there. Papyrus dropped what he carried with him and went to Sans, who seemed not to see him as his eyes flashed blue and yellow in the dim morning light. When Papyrus was close enough, he shifted into him clumsy skeleton form, accidentally ramming into Sans as he stumbled the half step between them. He embraced his brother tightly, though his arms couldn't even reach all the way around the other skeleton. Sans was amazingly warm, hot even.

"SANS?" He said, the repeated out of concern, “SANS!”

Sans was unresponsive, except for a bit of coughing. Papyrus shook. This was his fault. He hadn't been there when Sans woke up.

"BROTHER?"

"shhh..." Sans said, still unmoving, his voice cracking with the simple noise, "shhh... papyrus be quiet, he'll hear you..."

"SANS, WE'RE-"

"please papyrus," Sans said, pulling Papyrus into his lap and hugging him tight. Too tight. Suffocatingly tight, especially since Sans was really, very hot and sweaty. It was uncomfortable to be close to him, but Papyrus was too worried about him to acknowledge it. Sans was rocking back and forth a little now, and a lonely little chuckle escaped him. Papyrus suppressed a shiver, but gave up trying to reason with his brother and just let himself be held.

"i don't want him to take you away, too."

_____

Grillby was unconscious on the hearth of his own home. He was formless, however, faceless, indistinct from any other fire in any other hearth, right down to the fact that the doctor was poking logs into him, which his flames eagerly accepted. The guard dogs thought it was rude to do, but as soon as Doctor Ambrose saw who he was dealing with he assured them that they needed to open the elemental's home. The fireplace was the reason why - it was massive compared to most fireplaces, even in Snowdin, and the house was well stocked with various forms of fuel. The Doctor explained that this was the best way to heal Grillby in this case, just to treat him like any other fire.

Dogaressa and Dogomy weren't with them. They were back at their own place, Dogomy in a half drugged stupor and Dogaressa tending to his wounds with the medication the doctor had given them, leaving Doctor Ambrose, Doggo, and Greater and Lesser Dog sitting awkwardly in the living room. Well, the dogs were awkward. Doctor Ambrose had made himself right at home, with little regard for the elemental’s privacy as he rummaged through the household for whatever items he needed. Now he was lounging in a comfortable looking, worn chair near the hearth, the only other monster nearly as relaxed was the surprisingly small figure of Greater Dog. Greater Dog had jumped out of his suit, and Lesser was drying him with a dark brown towel they had acquired from the restroom, the small dog panting happily now that the danger had passed.

After Grillby had fallen in, Greater Dog had dove in after him, using his armor to allow him to pull the scalding elemental from the water. What he surfaced with barely looked like the friendly flame they were so accustomed to seeing, his body just a dark char-colored, stick-figure of a man, that glowed faintly like dying coals near what was once his chest. As they moved him off the ice and into the forest, damaged bits and hunks of his core fragmented off, leaving only the rapidly shrinking embers in Greater's paws. In an act of desperation, they had halted and started feeding kindling to the nearly nonexistent flame.

"What you did was genius," Doctor Ambrose said, "If you hadn't have done that he never would have lasted long enough for me to see him. Of course, with his fire reignited I can’t do anything to fix his core... But he's an elemental. He can repair himself, given time."

"I still don't understand," Doggo said, translating for Lesser, "How is he even still alive?"

"Well, my dear, elementals are the embodiment of magic, pure and simple. So long as their conjurer is still alive, if there is even the faintest, erm... _Spark_ of what they once were around, they can reconstitute themselves." the doctor said, "And Grillby is a very _old flame_ , if you'll pardon my pun. He'll probably be up and doing the things I tell him not to within the day."

" _He's as bad as Dogaressa..._ " Greater said, but Doggo didn't translate.

"What I'm saying," Ambrose continued, "It that this isn't the first time something's tried to _'snuff_ him. In fact, I've seen him enough times over my long life I ought to just start giving him frequent _fire_ miles."

" _Oh. My. God._ "

Doctor Ambrose laughed at his own joke. "Isn't that right, Grillz?"

The the surprise of the dogs, the fire flared as though in response, and the doctor gave another hearty chuckle.

"Come on," Doctor Ambrose said, "He'll want his privacy as he reforms himself. An elemental has to will their own body to form, you know, once their conjurer isn't around to do it for them anymore."

"Here's your spare glasses, Grillz." Ambrose added, setting the spectacles on the hearth as he rose to leave, "If I might make a suggestion, try making yourself a little _hotter_ this time."

\-----

Sans woke up to find himself wrapped in something entirely unfamiliar. He barely opened his eyes and sensed a kind of warmth around him that didn't vanish as he shifted. He didn’t remember the daytime or the nightmare previous in great detail, but he did have some vague memory of Papyrus trying to talk to him as he kept quieting his younger brother. Eventually, he had calmed down, and Papyrus had said he was sleepy and needed Sans to protect him from the cold. Papyrus was lying beside him now, still embracing him in his sleep, and Sans smiled lazily, letting his eyes slide close again. They were fine.

Sans didn't know how long it was until he was jostled into consciousness by his brother's movement, but he was surprised to see Papyrus heading so intently for the door.

"where are you going?" He said, voice strained with a fear that contrasted harshly with his earlier contentment.

Papyrus whined in response. He shifted so that he could talk to Sans, and said, "I'M GOING TO GET FOOD."

"papyrus, no." Sans said, "come here right now. i'll go out and get supplies, you just-"

Sans tried to sit up but vertigo overwhelmed him, and he fell back to the blanket with a dull thump.

"YOU CAN'T," Papyrus said, his voice breaking just a little.

Sans didn't respond immediately. He was too busy staring as his arms and his body. It was covered in soft blue cloth that moved with him, and he recognized it instantly with mounting horror. The clothing The Monster left.

"papyrus, where did you get this?"

"FROM BEHIND-"

"you can't go back there. he's going to hurt you, and then..."

Sans fell silent. After a few moments, Papryrus asked,

"WHY WOULD HE HURT US?"

Sans stared at him, struggling for words. "because, papyrus... guys like him... they just... do..."

"NO, THEY DON'T." Papyrus replied, "MONSTERS DON'T JUST HURT PEOPLE. A LOT OF THEM ARE NICE."

"how would you know?"

"WELL, THERE'S THE ONE WHO KEEPS LEAVING US FOOD AND BLANKETS," Papyrus said, "AND LAST NIGHT THERE WAS A RABBIT WOMAN, SHE-"

"it’s a trap ." Sans said, his voice unnecessarily cruel, his eyelights fading out, "it’s always a _t r a p_. they will _c o m e f o r u s_ and they will take us back to _h i m_ …"

Papyrus fell silent. His brother had never spoken to him like that before. Hopeless, yes, disagreeable, yes, but maliciously? Never. It hurt him in a way he couldn’t explain and he felt heat rising in his face as he started to tremble.

"oh, no, papyrus..." Sans reached out to touch him and Papyrus pulled back, then turned while shifting and vanished out the door. Sans tried to follow him, but his strength failed, and he was left laying half in and half out of the shelter, coughing uncontrollably.

\-----

Grillby knew something was wrong when there were fresh tracks in the alleyway in the morning. He had just finished reforming himself, and didn't have complete control over his flame again so it flared with his surprise. He felt immediate guilt, knowing that for the past few days he hadn't been able to leave anything new out for the children. He investigated pensively, and was shocked to find a trail he could follow. The trail led straight to a small stand of trees near the edge of town, so well within view of his establishment and Grillby couldn't help but feel a momentary embarrassment that he hadn't checked there before as he continued onward. Soon, he discovered a small structure near the middle of the corpse. The skeletons were near it, one of them in bone-dog form as they nuzzled the other, who was a normal child, though also clearly unconscious.

As Grillby hastened his approach, concern and pity filling his core, the bone-dog turned to him. Its eyes blazed orange in the pre-dawn twilight, lighting the snow around it in much the same way Grillby’s own flame illuminated the landscape. It growled at him, warning him away, and Grillby halted. He held out his hands and crouched down, trying to show he wasn't a threat to what he was, beneath the sharp fangs and curved claws, only a child.

"Easy now," he soothed, though his voice was hesitant as he was uncertain what to say "Your... Your brother looks awful sick there. He's been coughing a whole bunch, and I bet that recently he stopped moving around much. He’s been really… Really sleepy, right? Doesn’t want to eat as much?"

The creature - Grillby reminded himself again it was a boy - quieted a little. "I can help him. I know a doctor who-"

Grillby barely knew what hit him. One moment he was talking to the creature, then he caught the quick sense of mounting energy before a sustained blast of light hit him directly in the chest and he stumbled backwards. The world went a pure and simple orange, nothing else but the incredibly force of magic forcing him to sagger. For a while, Grillby tried to fight it and stand against the attack, but the magic ground against his own and he felt it tearing at his still unstable core, a sudden sense of fear consuming him.

Instead of continuing the futile effort of fighting it, Grillby let himself be swept away by the tide of heat and light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> [2]Grillby was alive during the war between humans and monsters.  
> Chapter 1: **Morning 1** Sans and Papyrus are sleeping in the woods when Sans awakens abruptly. It is mentioned he has a "peculiar memory". The two then head to town to scavenge for food, and Grillby spots them. Grillby offers the children food, but they run away before he can give it to them. 1595 words.  
>  Chapter 2: **Day 1 - Night 1** Grillby tells the royal guard dogs about the children, who are very concerned and promise to investigate ASAP. Under their advisement, Grillby leaves supplies out for the children. The boys are in rough shape when they find the supplies, and Sans is immediately suspicious of them. In the time it takes for him to decide they're safe, Papyrus succumbs to the cold. 2731 words.  
>  Chapter 3: **Night 1 - Morning 4** Sans had a flashback about Gaster showing him puppies while trying to revive Papyrus. It's revealed that at one point, Gaster had a bit of mercy in him, but that as time went on he went progressively more cold and had fewer "Good Days". Due to Papyrus' condition, they are forced to stay in town. The royal guard dogs are forced to leave town and Grillby continues to leave supplies, while Sans comes to the conclusion that Grillby has to want something, and confronts him. 3528 words.  
>  Chapter 4: **Morning 4 - Morning 6** Sans' begins to completely break down, his body finally giving in to sickness and exhaustion while Papyrus watches helplessly. Meanwhile, Grillby saves the guard dogs from a cave-in and get severely injured in the process. Luckily, the dogs and Doctor Ambrose are able to save him. Papyrus does some scavenging on his own, restoring his faith in monster kind, but triggering a fight between him and Sans after Sans has a nightmare about being "sacrificed". As a result, Sans is left alone and helpless in the snow as Papyrus runs off for an unknown amount of time. When he comes back, he's left tracks that Grillby is able to follow to their shelter, causing a brief conversation that ends in Papyrus blasting Grillby. 6337 words.  
> 


	5. Visit [Timeline #1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> So as you may have noticed, I'm doing a fair amount of editing and have also been seeking your advice pretty regularly lately. Well, as a result, I just want you guys to know that instead of finding a good schedule or whatever, it looks like I'll be doing updates... Of random lengths... At seemingly random times... Yeah... Sorry. :-(
> 
> Also, my editing is going to continue as I write this, so I hope it doesn't anger any of you. That's the problem with straight-posting a rough draft, is you often retrospectively realize, "Oh... That doesn't make any sense, does it?" and need to change it.
> 
> Anyway, comments are always greatly appreciated. The more information I get about what you like and what you don't like, the more I can work to make this a satisfying fic for everyone, including myself! Now, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. ZALGO: BURN THE CHILDREN, BURN THEM ALL.
> 
> P.P.S. Wait, what? I never said that. Shut up, silly.

Papyrus stared at the crumpled form he had just blasted with shock and morbid fascination, his eye lights flashing aggressively as his panic receded into regret. The Monster had stumbled around as the blast hit him, a wide section of his flame going out, suffocated by the intense heat of the blast burning the oxygen around it, exposing what seemed to be some form of flowing ember within him. It was glowing nearly the same intense orange as Papyrus’ blast, marbled indistinctively with dancing reds and yellows.

The Monster didn't fade into dust like Papyrus was expecting. Instead his own fire seemed to devour his features, and he became a formless thing, almost melting into one amorphous blaze if not for the fine trousers that supported it almost comically. There was noise, suddenly, as though a recording of a fire had abruptly started playing, as the dancing flame collapsed and went still.

The world seemed to bend and sway around Papyrus as he realized what he'd done. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't. He let himself shift then, from the powerful blaster form he had been moments ago to the weak child he felt like now. He started crying, running as best he could to his unconscious brother and throwing himself on top of the blue-clad from. He started shaking Sans to rouse him, but was still startled when a weak, bony hand touched his shoulder.

"pap?" Sans said groggily, "what's a matter? it's fine… papyrus? pap - i'm right here."

"I KILLED HIM." Papyrus bawled, "THE MONSTER WHO HELPED US."

"you...?" Papyrus felt Sans shift around beneath him, only to stiffen suddenly as he laid eyes on the scene of his murder.

"I DIDN'T WANT-" Papyrus started, "I DIDN'T MEAN..."

"oh, pap." was all Sans said at first, and Papyrus cried harder. The first arm, somehow both comforting and concerning limp, was joined by another as Sans tried to sooth him, wrapping him in a weak embrace. "it doesn't matter, pap. it doesn't change anything... we're still here."

The wave of exhaustion from magic use was starting to catch up with Papyrus. He bent down further, wrapping his arms around Sans as he buried his face into the pale blue fabric. He tried to breathe through that fabric, tried to filter out everything else. The world smelled like burning, a reminder of what he had just done, and he wanted to forget. He kept crying until he'd cried himself out, and his weight sagging over Sans's body.

\-----

Grillby's body had come to rest against a tree trunk, his flames bleeding into the bark like the fingers of a starving man into bread. His consciousness reconvened slowly as his body restabilized. Grillby never really lost consciousness from his injury, but his sense of self redistributed across his entire being as an artifact of his core's response to severe damage, the idea being that so long as some part of his core survived, so would his mind. If he was hurt badly enough or spread his awareness too thin, he could lose himself completely, once again becoming a mindless simple flame, but luckily that didn’t happen now. Pulling himself out of his stupor, he flexed the confines of magic that made up his body, urging it into a more humanoid shape.

It was easier this time, the damage done not extending to the heart of his core. The molted magic had been stirred by the blast, not cooled, and while his motor control would be ruined for who knows how long now, he was honestly little worse for wear. He was weak, of course, but that was more a product of his earlier swim than anything else. 

Grillby wanted to rush the process of reforming, but restrained himself. It was difficult, and he could hear heart wrenching sobs from nearby. Forcing himself to be patient was torturous, knowing that if he rushed the creation of him body it might spontaneously disintegrate. Within minutes, he had regenerated the rough shape of a torso and his missing arm.

He pulled the new limb up, struggling to separate digits from the loose mitten of flame before flexing them experimentally. Since his body had already been dissolved earlier this week, it seemed a little matter that one limb might be slightly less dexterous then the other as he struggled to control the entirety of his body, though he wondered if he would always be right handed now. Previously the elemental had always been ambidextrous, which had served him well in the business of cooking.

Now that the elemental's body was more or less in order, he looked disparagingly at what remained of his clothes while he waited for his surface temperature to stabilize. He knew it was stupid, but somehow losing two sets of clothing in one week seemed like a personal failure. He unbuttoned and tossed the lone cuff that still hung from one arm. By the time Grillby was ready to move, the crying had quieted to silence.

Grillby looked up to see the two skeletons were he had found them previously. The one who had blasted him seemed to have turned back into a skeleton and was collapsed atop the other. Exhaustion, Grillby guessed considering the child’s apparent age. While Orange was now unconscious, Blue Eyes was now awake. His neck was twisted awkwardly, his chest pinned below his sibling so that he couldn’t move enough to reposition himself. There was a candle-like quality in his eye lights, as though they were barely staying lit as he looked at Grillby with weary disapproval.

"hey, buddy..." The skeleton rasped humorlessly, "don't you think it's a bit cold to be going around without a shirt on?"

Grillby stood slowly, supporting himself with the tree behind him. The child’s voice floated over the snow like a ghost, faint and uneven, as though he were struggling to breath beneath the weight. The snow was falling now, small, light flakes dusting over the pair of children, and Grillby took a step towards them, knowing they needed to be taken to shelter quickly, before the snow fall grew thicker.

Blue Eyes sighed, "you're... not going to leave us alone, are you?"

Grillby shook his head before he carefully approached the children. He didn't trust himself to speak. He'd lost too much of the fine control over his flame necessary to form clear words and feared he would only make the child more fearful of him if he tried to say something. He was watchful of another attack, but as he drew closer he gained some confidence in his advancement, realizing that the children couldn't resist him. The realization pained him, and he found himself hoping that all they needed was warmth and rest, and that nothing more serious was wrong. Even as he thought this, a weak cough escaped the small form beneath him. He was only a step away from the children when he crouched and reached out to touch the smaller skeleton.

"don't..." Blue Eyes said, some pathetic attempt at intimidation flavoring his words, but Grillby had already started shifting the unconscious form. Blue Eyes' eye lights flickered again, going completely out for a moment like a dying lightbulb. The pits of his eyes remained black until Grillby started to move him and the cyan glow came back abruptly, steady, but weak.

With a sorry attempt for shushing the child, the soothing noise interrupted with a crackling pop, Grillby moved the two further into their makeshift shelter, gathering the half-soiled blankets around them. He wrapped the children into a bundle together, hoping to keep them protected from the elements, before gently pulling that bundle close to his chest. Grillby groaned unintentionally when he stood again, sensing the flames in his legs and back flickering unpredictably, but focused on keeping his arms and torso steady so as not to burn the children.

\-----

Sans tried to stay awake while The Monster stumbled through the narrow strip of rapidly thinning trees, but sensed himself slipping away. His eye lights flickered as his thoughts grew more abstract, quieter, and he felt his traitorous body relaxing in the sudden warmth of the elemental’s grip. Even his own fear was beginning to escape him, replaced by grim acceptance. An uneasiness was still present, in the marrow of his bones, urging him to struggle against the pull of sleep, but Papyrus was beside him and The Monsters' hold was secure, yet gentle and...

And he was just so tired. How long had he been this tired? Exhaustion seemed to be a constant, following him through his life from even his earliest memories. Sans tried to face The Monster, tried to speak, to object, but as he opened his mouth only a small, wheezing yawn escaped him. Despite his best intentions, Sans' eyes closed of their own accord, and the boy was submerged in the darkness of his own mind.

\-----

Grillby was relieved to finally reach his house. He was falling apart at the seams, the magic keeping him together nearly depleted. He had wanted to tuck the children into a proper bed and call for the doctor, but he was realizing that he wouldn't be able to manage that. His body was malformed, his flames erratic, and it was now taking all of his concentration not to burn the young monsters he carried alive.

Instead, he took them to the living room, laying them carefully on the sofa before he allowed himself to relax. Smoke rose from his body, and he found himself grateful he had removed all the fire alarms from his home long ago. He grabbed several of the logs that filled the lower portion of his many shelves that lined his communal rooms and tossed them near his fireplace before sitting on the hearth himself. He looked momentarily at the sleeping children as he arranged the wood around himself, fashioning a crude platform of wood for him to consume in his sleep. Hopefully, the children would be alright for the next few hours as Grillby let himself stabilize. With that though, the elemental laid back, his broken form forcing his awareness to wander into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> [2]Grillby was alive during the war between humans and monsters.  
> Chapter 1: **Morning 1** Sans and Papyrus are sleeping in the woods when Sans awakens abruptly. It is mentioned he has a "peculiar memory". The two then head to town to scavenge for food, and Grillby spots them. Grillby offers the children food, but they run away before he can give it to them. 1595 words.  
>  Chapter 2: **Day 1 - Night 1** Grillby tells the royal guard dogs about the children, who are very concerned and promise to investigate ASAP. Under their advisement, Grillby leaves supplies out for the children. The boys are in rough shape when they find the supplies, and Sans is immediately suspicious of them. In the time it takes for him to decide they're safe, Papyrus succumbs to the cold. 2731 words.  
>  Chapter 3: **Night 1 - Morning 4** Sans had a flashback about Gaster showing him puppies while trying to revive Papyrus. It's revealed that at one point, Gaster had a bit of mercy in him, but that as time went on he went progressively more cold and had fewer "Good Days". Due to Papyrus' condition, they are forced to stay in town. The royal guard dogs are forced to leave town and Grillby continues to leave supplies, while Sans comes to the conclusion that Grillby has to want something, and confronts him. 3528 words.  
>  Chapter 4: **Morning 4 - Morning 6** Sans' begins to completely break down, his body finally giving in to sickness and exhaustion while Papyrus watches helplessly. Meanwhile, Grillby saves the guard dogs from a cave-in and get severely injured in the process. Papyrus does some scavenging on his own, restoring his faith in monster kind, but triggering a fight between him and Sans after Sans has a nightmare about being "sacrificed". As a result, Sans is left alone and helpless in the snow as Papyrus runs off for an unknown amount of time. When he comes back, he's left tracks that Grillby is able to follow to their shelter, causing a brief conversation that ends in Papyrus blasting Grillby. 6337 words.  
>  Chapter 5: **Morning 6** A guilt-ridden Papyrus, thinking he has killed "The Monster", seeks comfort from Sans, who barely regains enough consciousness to wrap his arms around the younger boy as he attempts to sooth him. At this point, both children are so exhausted that with the falling snow, they would likely fall to dust soon, and cannot escape when Grillby finally reforms himself and starts to approach them. Papyrus is unconscious when the elemental reaches them, and Sans' faint protests die in his throat as warmth engulfs him. He no longer cares at this point anyway, and Grillby is able to get the children and himself to safety before his own body betrays him, and he is forced to rest. 1698 words.


	6. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snow stops, and Gaster reflects. Meanwhile, someone knocks on Grillby's door.
> 
> Basically, we have two long trips down memory lane!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I have another question for you guys... What activities do you think Dadby and the Skelebros might do together once they've gained each other's trust? I have several idea's of my own, but I really want to here you're suggestions as well. If I steal your idea, you'll be credited right here in the notes or the chapter said idea is used in. :3
> 
> On a completely diffrent note, this chapter was written while listening to these songs: [SharaX Remix of Spiderdance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mm-GIP-de50), [SharaX's Megalotrousle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kf692zBUOac), and [Like Father Like Son (Asgore + Asriel Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVOV2EZVPQQ).
> 
> THE FLUFF HAS LANDED. Sort of. I giggled a bit writing this anyway. And then I made myself sad. :-(
> 
> Fun fact: Before I edited this with my beta reader, Grillby was completely naked for this entire chapter because his trousers burnt off in his sleep. No one made any comment of it, but there were some alternative titles based on this fact:  
> -The Naked Flame  
> -Flaming Hot  
> -Hot Flash in the Flesh  
> -Burning Love  
> -Grillby's Dick
> 
> I'm sorry. I blame Organic Chemistry melting my brain and an enabling beta reader... T.T
> 
> Also, "How did Greater and Lesser sneak up on Grillby while wearing armor?". Well, Greater's armor is magic. Let me repeat: MAGIC. As for Lesser... Well, she might also have magic armor, but I think that she might not even be wearing her armor right now. I do think Greater wears his armor almost all the time when he's out in public, though. He's a chill dude, but he doesn't like being treated like a "cute little puppy dog". He finds it condescending.

In Snowdin, the snow had gradually stopped falling two days ago. In Hotland, The Core had cooled back to it's original temperature 96 hours, 36 minutes, and 56 seconds ago. Gaster occasionally watched the timer crawl up in the corner of his computer screen while he finished his notes, mentally adding another 20 hours to the figure. If the next few hours or so went smoothly, there would be no need to continue increased core production that had lead, inadvertently, to more snow in Snowdin.

The Royal Scientist fiddled with his tie absentmindedly as he closed the file. It was dark gray today, just as it had been yesterday and the day before that. He hadn't changed in a while, there wasn't enough time. He needed to be here, even if all he did was wait. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt very tired, but didn't really want to sleep. If he stayed up just a little longer he would be able to go home and sleep in a real bed. He hoped.

He pushed himself up and got another cup of coffee, sipping it as he stood listlessly in his pseudo office. He wanted out the door and stretch his legs as he walked through the maze of hallways until he reached the observation window, but he knew all he would find is an empty room. Subject ASP-6-P and S - Subject S, he corrected himself partially - had escaped months ago. He'd found ASP-6-P's dust while searching for them, and gave up looking for ASP-5-S shortly after. Without his "brother", Gaster didn't expect that S would've lasted long. It was a shame.

Gaster set his coffee mug down beside his computer gently before settling into his chair. 96 hours, 41 minutes, and 24 seconds is what the counter said, which meant his latest project had been stable without direct core feed for nearly 117 hours now. He had 3 more hours left. Gaster considered leaving anyway. At this point, the chances of the project failing were nearly zero... But at this point he couldn't afford another error. Out of boredom, he started looking through his old notes. He started with the written stuff, but quickly realized that he couldn't focus very well and was just reading the same sentence over and over. Frustrated, he started clicking on random video and audio files without any regard to order.

Subject ASP-5-S filled his screen. The boy was solving a simple puzzle, a Rubik's Cube that Gaster had brought from his own home. S had solved it with considerable speed for his age group. Watching the video, Gaster felt something that reminded him of affection, only fainter and more painful. He went to an earlier file. Here was S sitting on the edge of a gurney, blank eyed and emotionless, the only sign he was alive the slight movement of his breathing. This was the day Gaster discovered that one of his experiments had woken up. He moved to a much later file. He was in the frame of this video. It was the day S was introduced to Subject ASP-6-P. Gaster decided not to explore any later then that file.

Here he was again, this time holding Sebject S' hand as he staggered about, learning to walk. It was very reminiscent of a father helping his son, if not for the harsh white walls in the background and the lab coat. Gaster didn't notice how quick he was to close the file, moving immediately to the next one. It was a long video feed from inside S' kennel, documenting his recover from a minor surgery. Gaster sped up the footage. Subject S was sleeping, then looked about lethargically, then the expression of... Gaster hadn't put this kind of camera up when he moved his experiment into another room.

The next file was an audio clip of S learning to read. He had already learned to be quiet by then, his voice a whisper that stopped immediately when Gaster stepped in to correct him. Gaster scrolled up and away, before clicking on a file type he didn't even recognize. He paused, transfixed with his own image. It was taken long before S or any of the other subjects, in fact in it he was proudly displaying the resulting culture from Sample ASP-2-I, the first artificial soul. He stared at his own face. It looked so happy in the photo, so... Smooth. He placed his fingertips gently on his own cheek, exploring the edges around the ragged crack curving up from his mouth. When was the last time he'd smiled so earnestly like that?

It didn't matter. Gaster exited the file and debated deleting it. It wasn't of any scientific importance, after all. Instead, he moved it to a separate folder on his desktop before moving on to more important things. A video documenting a standard, non invasive exam of Subject S. A video of him measuring S' reflexes. A recording of S reciting a string of letters and numbers from memory (he had remarkable memory). A video of S doing an endurance test (not so remarkable). Another video from the kennel view. This time Gaster was in it, sitting just outside the door. Gaster closed the file before the audio even started. He knew what he was saying. The next file was a surgery of Subject S, his rib cage split open with precision as Gaster made a few... Modifications. Gaster watched the video for a while, then closed the file and the folder.

The timer read 98 hours, 11 minutes, and 3 seconds.

\---

It was late afternoon when Grillby awoke to a knock on the door. He was disoriented, still groggy even as he moved to answer the door before remembering the children he left sleeping on his couch. He glanced over to find them still there, still asleep and hurried to answer the door before another knock woke them. When he opened the door half way, body blocking the view into his house he was met by the shocked expressions of three dogs. Greater whined a little while Lesser gave a quick yap, and Doggo smiled nervously as he debated how to translate.

"Hey Grillby," he said, "You look... Tired?"

Grillby tried to speak, but all that escaped him was a rather rough crackling sound which ended in a sharp pop. He shook his head, then tried again, before producing a barely recognizable, "Thanks."

He gestured pointedly for the guard to be quiet before opening the door to let them in. They did, politely wiping their paws off before entering. Greater dog was carrying something that looked heavy and Doggo started to speak, "Greater wanted to check in on you and Lesser-"

"Shhhh," Grillby shushed him, the noise more of a sizzle then something a normal monster could produce. He pointed at the children.

"How did you-" Doggo said before falling silent. Greater's tail wagged happily as he smiled, while Lesser's ears twitched as she uttered a high-pitched whine, communicating quietly in Pekingese something that Grillby couldn't understand while clearly demanding answers. The elemental gestured for the dogs to follow him into the sitting room through the kitchen. There he could risk trying to speak without waking the children.

"I found them this morning," he said, his voice warped and unnatural. "They've been sleeping outside, underneath some cardboard."

"What?" Was all Doggo said.

"I don't think they would've come with me if they hadn't of been completely exhausted," Grillby continued, "They were... Very aggressive towards me."

Lesser gave a wondering bark that Doggo translated, "How did you get them to come in?"

"I didn't..." Grillby said, darkly, "One of them actually started a battle with me. Had a lot of potential to hurt someone, too. Not that I blame him, he was obviously terrified when I approached. The other one was already collapsed with exhaustion, and, possibly, pneumonia. I think he was trying to protect his brother."

Doggo waited patiently as the two dogs behind him whined and growled with each other, before falling silent and staring at Grillby. He looked embarrassed asking the next question out loud, but such was the duty of the bilingual, "Um... So, you actually fought a child?

"No!" Grillby said, "Of course not. He was scared and attacked, so I just-"

Lesser gave a smug series of barks. Doggo looked at her. "I am _not_ saying that to him."

"No need, Doggo," Grillby said, "I can... Tell a joke when I hear one. I appreciate Lesser's attempt to defuse the situation."

The look Greater gave him told Grillby that Lesser certainly wasn't joking. Inside, Grillby allowed himself a bit of irritation, but outside he tried desperately to maintain his professionalism. Even if he was half naked (not that it mattered, anyway). He was quickly realizing why Lesser was somewhat disowned from her own pack with the exception of Greater, which just furthered his impression that Greater was the tolerant, gentle giant of Snowdin. 

Doggo spoke up again, "Uh, yeah. Speaking of... We actually came by just to check on you and Lesser wanted to tell you something."

"Okay." Grillby said as Doggo paused, looking at him expectantly.

"No," Doggo said pointedly. " _She_ wants to tell you something."

Lesser Dog whined and pinned her ears back. She looked ashamed, now, having remembered why she came in the first place. Talking a step towards Grillby, she said in short, choppy sentences that were obviously memorized without any real regard for the laguage in much the same way Grillby could speak in Pekingese.

"Much thanks," She said. "Good save. Very grateful."

 _"Wow."_ Grillby responded in his fragmented pekingese, _"Many welcome."_

Lesser Dog wrinkled her nose in response, but carefully didn't verbally communicate any criticism. Instead, she faked a sneeze to cover her expression and wagged her tail, before giving Grillby a small forced smile.

"Anyway," Doggo said, ending their moment, "I think we should go tell Dogaressa what has happened to the case of the fish-scented-bone-puppies. Maybe we can start passing along the information and try to find a guardian, somewhere."

"Wait," Grillby said, "I haven't told you everything, and that actually might not be a good idea."

The dogs produced various noises of curiosity, from Greater's patient whine to Lesser's brief growl. Doggo gave a much more standard, "Huh?"

Grillby breathed deeply for a moment before beginning, "Right before the cave in one of the two confronted me... The older one, I think. I've gotten to thinking of him as "Blue Eyes" but I don't even know his name. He demanded to know why I was helping him and seemed incredibly suspicious of my motives. Both of them have been skittish to say the least, and as I've explained before seem terrified by my presence."

Lesser whined. Doggo said, "She has a point. You are made out of fire, Grillby. Like, entirely. I remember being a little intimidated by you when I was a pup."

Lesser nodded, cocking one of her ears back as if to say, 'no offense'.

"I... Realize that." Grillby said, a little disheartened. He adored children, and the thought of them being afraid of him simply based on appearance stung. "But I still haven't told you everything. This is going to sound a little strange, but I've dealt with skeletons before and these two have had a lot of injuries. Not just normal "kid" injuries either-"

"You're not suggesting-" Doggo started, but stopped suddenly to listen and translate when Greater gave a gentle, rumbling bark. "Greater doesn't want to be disrespectful, but would like to know how... Or when? Sorry, that particular phrase is a little difficult to translate."

"Ah. Well, back on the surface skeletons were actually quite common. All they really are is the result of a human soul with or in the presence of strong magical potential fusing with the bones of the dead creating an entirely new monster, or, in rarer cases the core of an elemental bound to bones. They started dying and getting bred out after we were forced underground, since there weren't many bones or human souls down here."

"You... Were on the surface?" The dog said in wonder, "But that's impossible! You hardly look like Gerson at all!"

Grillby smiled at the mention of Gerson. He had a special affection for the old tortoise, as he was one of the few people who had remained constant throughout Grillby's life in the underground. "Doggo, you're native to Snowdin. Did you ever ask your parents were they met?"

"Grillby's" Doggo said, "Yeah, and they took me to your place when I was a pup. They weren't that old, Grillz."

"Okay. How about who catered your grandparents wedding?"

"I wouldn't know, Grillby." Doggo said, looking down suddenly, his ears drooping a bit, "Picture album, remember?"

Grillby felt immediately guilty, then asked, "Just an album?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Grillby said, then paused. "Wait... Wait here for a second. I need to go check something."

He excused himself quickly and walked through the kitchen, glancing to look at the children real quick before he went upstairs. He turned and walked through a short hallway, before finding the trap door that led to his attic. He pulled the hanging string and a set of narrow wooden stairs reclined smoothly to floor before he went up them.

Grillby hated his attic as much as he loved it. It was a cluttered space, the only place in his large, elegant home he allowed such a nuisance. The truth was that it wasn't really filled with items, but with people, not a single one of which Grillby was willing to let go of. Pictures and paintings lined the walls, musical instruments and other personal items... Dust, if only just a segment of the person given to him at a funeral.

He was sometimes asked to spread a little at Grillby's, but if he spread every little packet or urn he'd been handed over the decades, the restaurant would be coated with it. Besides, the restaurant was hardly permanent. So far there had been five "Grillby's", each rebuilt on the same spot and with a similar style, but with subtle changes here and there. Normally upgrades to cooking equipment. Twice the restaurant had burned down, but that had been Grillby's own fault once. Eventually the building called Grillby's now would cease to be, and after that happened Grillby would take the dust he had and mix it with the new foundation that would be poured over the old when he rebuilt.

The attic was crowded with gifts and art and letters, little memories, all of which were special and belonged to someone. Most of them was very, very old. Things that no longer fit in downstairs on Grillby's many shelves, the ones he kept firewood and coal in the bottom section of, and that guests always seemed to comment on. Some of it Grillby kept up here, out of view, not because it didn't 'fit' any more but because the nostalgia, the yearning for people long since past hit him just a little to hard. But in the very back was where Grillby kept his real records. Half a wall of diary and journals, mostly his own, but occasionally someone else's, and an entire bookshelf of photo albums. Besides that, rows and rows of VHS tapes and DVDs, the occasional bit of music. Grillby searched through it, not realizing Lesser was behind him.

Her mouth a gape, she seemed about to comment when Greater tapped her shoulder. She turned, and he twitched his ears at her. She nodded, and the two dogs carefully retreated down the stairs, careful not to alert the elemental behind them. Eventually Grillby selects a recording he thinks is the right one (though he worries it might actually be Doggo's great-grandparents), and turns to rejoin the others. On the way, he's distracted by an old mirror. It's silver and flaking, but he could still see his reflection in it.

He thought he looked terrible, not at all like he remembers himself. His flames erratic, the surface of his skin strange and rippling. His facial features are indistinct, even his eyes blending in with the surrounding flame despite the extra distinction provided by his glasses. He tries to fix himself, and succeeds a little, but still doesn't look at all like the professional monster he wants to. Giving up, He exited the attic and sealed it behind him.

When he rejoined the others and noticed that they abruptly stopped speaking when he appeared and feels a little self conscious. It's always awkward for a little while after he reveals his age to someone, but eventually things go back to normal. After all, there are just enough elementals that everyone knows that an age such as his is theoretically possible. It just... Doesn't happen much.

"Here Doggo," He said, offering the recording, "This is a video of the wedding I was talking about. I have your parents too, if you would like it. But, could you please make me a new copy of both? It's the sort of thing I like to keep hold of."

"Sure, thanks," Doggo said, and Grillby smiles in response. He actually sounded grateful.

"Anyway," Grillby said, "About the children... As you guessed, I think that they were probably abused, and I'm not sure that they should go with anyone who's looking for them. I'm not saying that we shouldn't investigate that avenue later, but... I guess I would like to wait until Dogaressa and Dogomy aren't as stressed and can actually work together to make sure the right people are aware of the situation and the wrong people aren't. Now, of course you should tell them everything I've told you, and I would be happy to go over to their place if they want, I'm just worried about the kids."

"No, I think that's relatively reasonable." Doggo said, "We won't start spreading the information unless we get a missing persons report matching their description, okay? In the mean time, what should happen to the children?"

"Well..." Grillby sighed awkwardly, "Actually, I was thinking that they could stay with me. At least for a little while."

Greater snorted, but wagged his tail while Lesser's ears perked. Doggo asked, "Are you sure you're alright with that situation? I... I'm not exactly sure how legal it is, but it would work at least until we've gotten this information to Dogaressa."

"Yes," Grillby responded. "I haven't interacted with them much, but we don't know of anyone else who has. And at least they do recognize that I was helping them before, even if they don't understand why..."

Grillby carefully failed to mention the fact that the attack he got hit with probably would've killed most other monsters in the underground. He just got very, very lucky that the blast was magic in the form of heat and light, the same components that made up his own body, so while his body's form was disrupted he was barely injured at all. He didn't plan to say anything about that until it came up or the children were going to go into the care of someone else. The last thing these children needed was a reason for people to thing they were dangerous.

"We should probably go, then." Doggo said, turning to the other two, "Unless you have anything else to say?"

Lesser dog shook her head, but Greater Dog wagged his tail again which thumped against the kitchen counter rhythmically. He lifted up the heavy bag he was carrying and handed it over to Grillby. It was a half empty bag of charcoal with a small red and green gift card taped to it that Grillby suspected was left over from Gryftmas. Regardless, the card read in small, neat hand writing:

_"Dear Grillby,_  
_Thanks for helping us out. You are truly dog's best friend._  
_We hope you feel better soon!_  
_Let us know if we can help you out any time._  
_Sincerely,_  
_-The Royal Guard Dogs"_

Grillby smiled, "Thank you."

Greater Dog gave a happy bark in response, while Lesser Dog remained silent. Doggo said, "No problem. It was mostly Lesser's idea, though we all signed the card... None of us really knew what was an appropriate 'Thanks for saving our tail' gift."

"It's wonderful. It's... Actually been a very long time since I got a card." Grillby said, then realizing that they meant the charcoal added, "And I'll put this to very good use."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  Prestory:  
> [2]Grillby was alive during the war between humans and monsters.  
> [6]Gaster's experiments originally focused on artificial souls, his first successful one Sample ASP-2-I. Back when he started his work, he was a fairly normal monster, proud of his research and happy, without cracks in his face. As his work progressed, so did the darkness in his life, it would seem.  
> Chapter 5: **Morning 6** A guilt-ridden Papyrus, thinking he has killed "The Monster", seeks comfort from Sans, who barely regains enough consciousness to wrap his arms around the younger boy as he attempts to sooth him. At this point, both children are so exhausted that with the falling snow, they would likely fall to dust soon, and cannot escape when Grillby finally reforms himself and starts to approach them. Papyrus is unconscious when the elemental reaches them, and Sans' faint protests die in his throat as warmth engulfs him. He no longer cares at this point anyway, and Grillby is able to get the children and himself to safety before his own body betrays him, and he is forced to rest. 1698 words.  
>  Chapter 6: **Morning 6-Afternoon 6** Enter Gaster. The Royal Scientist is working on a new project, or rather waiting on one to stabilize. Bored, he begins browsing old records, revealing his past history of interactions with subjects ASP-5-S, who he seems to have some strange fondness for, and ASP-6-P, whose very existence he seems to avoid acknowledging. Gaster's experiments apparently account for some of the strange weather in Snowdin, the CORE's production tied into weather. Meanwhile, Grillby and the boys sleep the day away until some of the royal guard dogs visit, dropping Grillby of a thank-you gift. This is being edited right now, can you tell?


	7. Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> From now on top notes, like this one will be "serious-ish" notes while the ones at the bottom will be more silly.  
> This chapter was going to by longer, but then I realized how long the next section would have to be in order for me to consider it complete.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading! This fic has really been helping me work through some long term issues concerning my self confidence and ability to work through something purely for my own enjoyment. It's a huge bonus to know that somewhere, out there, I am bringing a few other people even the vaguest hint of entertainment! :-)

With a final wave, Grillby shut the door behind the dogs as they left. It was nearing dark now, and Grillby wondered offhand how he was going to get back to a reasonable sleep schedule. He liked to have things perfect, after all, and perfection demanded early mornings. At this rate, he would never fall asleep in time to wake up refreshed at his usual time. Not that he intended to work tomorrow anyway - not with the children, and not with his still healing core - but it was the principle of the thing that bothered him. The amount of care, near obsession Grillby put into his establishment might seem odd to some, since Grillby's was merely a strange hybrid of greasy spoon and bar & grill, but that was intentional. Everything about Grillby was intentional. And the intent behind his restaurant was to provide warmth and comfort, even if it was in the form of a greasy burger.

As the elemental considered this, he went back into the living room to store the gift he'd been given. Distracted by his own thoughts, Grillby bumped into the wrought irons besides his hearth as he bent to slide the charcoal besides some of the logs. They clattered like a giants' wind chimes for a moment, balancing precariously with the weight of the stand, before the inevitable force of gravity took hold of them and they struck the rock mantle place with a serious of deafening cracks. Grillby let out a gentle curse and quickly righted then, his back flames sparking a bit when he saw all the ash that had fallen onto the floor. The lack of control even allowing him to spark only worsened his mood, and he wondered if he even had enough of a face right now to frown. When he stood and turned to retrieve a dust pan, he spotted two orange eyes staring at him from the blankets.

As he looked, they started strobing in much the same way blue eyes' had when the boy had confronted Grillby in the alleyway. Orange, green, orange, green, orange... Grillby was certain it was related to panic, and remembering his last conversation raised his hands as a sign of peace before slowly moving to sit on the hearth behind him.

"Hello," Grillby said, hoping that his newly refound voice wouldn't give out. When there was no response he continued, "I'm not going to hurt you, I just took you into my house because you and your brother were outside in the snow alone. My name is Grillby, what is yours?"

Instead of responding, the little form wrapped in blankets started shaking him brother, who, Grillby noticed with dismay, barely shifted in response. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of orange magic as the skeleton tried to do something, but the spell must have failed as the energy was simply dispelled without any form or function. The child whimpered, as though caught of guard, but the sound was so brief and so mild that Grillby wasn't concerned. He took it to mean the child was to drained to control his own magic, and sighed, sympathetic. With that in mild, he decided he could approach.

"You're brother really does seem ill," he said, standing. "But last time we spoke it seemed like you didn't really want help."

The orange eyed child seemed to be ignoring him now. He'd barely glanced up when Grillby stood, and instead was digging himself and the other out of the blankets, though progress was slow. The child was so small that the thick comforter he was wrapped in (queen sized, Grillby tended to be a bit needlessly lavish when it came to resting) was somewhat more then he could handle. Grillby took a few steps forward, pausing after each one so that the child had ample time to react. It was awkward, because the child was preoccupied enough by trying to rouse his sibling that Grillby felt that he was sneaking up on them when that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do. He was only a step or two away when the child started speaking.

"SANS! WAKE UP." He said, in a voice that really wasn't that loud, merely distinct. The boy's voice was far to punctual for his age, orotund in a way that implied that every syllable was precious or that he had devoted a great deal of time practicing the fine art of clear speech. "RATTLE YOUR BONES!"

"Sans?" Grillby said, crouching an arms length away, "Is that his name?"

The little skeleton started and faced him, withdrawing until his back was pressed flat against the couch cushions. He was just staring at Grillby again, green, orange, green... Grillby reached forward gentle, not towards the child but to blue eyes and touched his forehead gently with a carefully formed palm. He looked at the child and tried to indicate his question by raising his eyebrow, but still wasn't sure if it was working. Regardless, the child shook his head, and Grillby took it to mean that it wasn't the skeleton's name.

"What is his name, then?"

The child shook his head.

"No?" Grillby said, "You're not going to tell me his name... Okay. What about your name, then?"

This time the child started, as if to say something, but decided against it and shook his head again. Grillby noticed he was shaking, but his eye lights seemed to be slowing a little.

"Hmm..." Grillby said. He was saying everything in as soothing a voice fire can make, the way someone might speak to a frightened animal, where the words don't matter as much as the sounds you use. "Well, blue eyes has a fever... And his hoodie is soaked. It was probably half covered in snow when I brought the two of you in here. I... I should've been more careful."

He moved to take the soaked hoodie off when orange eyes interrupted, "DON'T."

Grillby paused, and looked at the frightened skeleton again. "Don't what?"

"DON'T..." the sharp voice wavered, stuttering little stay "T" noises as he struggled to continue, "DON'T HURT HIM."

"I'm not going to hurt him. I'm just going to get him out of this wet clothing so that he can get better. He needs help, though, from a proper..." Grillby considered his word choice carefully, "...Healer."

"NOT... YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HURT HIM?"

"No, why would I?"

"OKAY." The little skeleton said. He started hugging his knees and looked down, away from Grillby. Slowly, his eyes slowed until they had stopped flashing, and finally stopped glowing all together. Somehow, this didn't help the child's expression. He looked so sad and resolved that Grillby to try to to comfort him, but his hand was met with instant stiffness and a sense of apprehension as it touched the child's shoulder. Something about it spooked Grillby down to his core. It wasn't even a flinch. It was... More then that, somehow. Just a sudden quite unease in the child's posture. 

"I'm not going to hurt you either, okay?" Grillby said, hoping it might help.

"BUT, I-" The child pulled his knees a little tighter, "-I TRIED TO..."

Now the child was stuck repeating "oo" softly to himself. Grillby waited, remembering another young man who'd sat in this room with him many years ago with a similar speech problem. The other man had told him how important is was for other people to let you speak your own words, even when they knew what your were about to say, even when it took a while to say it. It had taken Grillby a long time to learn from what he'd said. Too long, he reflected. The child had fallen silent now and took a deep breath.

"I TRIED TO HURT YOU." He said, finally. "I THOUGHT THAT I HAD-AD-AD... KILLED YOU."

It was Grillby's turn to shake his head before he spoke, saying, "Well, I'm fine. Even if I wasn't, harming you in return isn't going to make the world a better place, it'll just cause more pain. Besides, you must have been very scared. I know I'm not the kindest looking creature, but I only want to help you and your brother."

"HONEST?" The skeleton said, staring at Grillby with something like awe. When the elemental nodded, the skeleton swallowed and gave a little huff. He was calming down quickly, the tremors from earlier nearly imperceptible.

"BUT," he stammered, "YOU SAID... SOMETHING ABOUT THE DOCTOR?"

"Yes. The doctor would help your brother get better."

"NO!" The child shouted suddenly, eyes flashing a brief orange again, "NO, NO, OH, OH, OH... NOT THE DOCTOR."

Grillby blinked. He was sightly taken aback by the child's conviction. He didn't remember children being this afraid of the doctor. Grumpy, sure, but who really looks forward to a doctor's appointment? What had happened to this kid?

"Okay. No doctor." He said, adding a silent _"for now"_ in his head before changing the subject, "Is it okay for me to move your brother to another room? You can come with us."

"WHY?" The child responded, after a moment of what seemed to be puzzled silence.

"I think you'd both be much more comfortable in a bed. And dry fabric will help your brother feel better."

The child seemed to consider for a moment before saying, "OKAY."

Grillby nodded in response, finally pulling down the zipper of the hoodie to reveal the pale bones beneath. He picked the limp form up tenderly, and stood, holding a hand out for the other. The child took his hand after a moments hesitation, and allowed Grillby to help him stand. As the skeleton's hands wrapped tightly around Grillby's thumb and forefinger, Grillby couldn't help but notice how uncoordinated the child was. It seemed deeper then the clumsiness that comes from exhaustion, too, less unexpected to the child. Instead of commenting, he simply led the way carefully and slowly to the master bedroom.

Grillby's room was large and open, in much the same way his entire house was. There was a large bed in the middle of it, covered by burgundy bed sheets and pale, cream-colored blankets. To the right of it was a small dresser with a lamp, just within arms reach of the bed, and a small bowl of what appeared to be balls of dried grass and some other, unknown substance. Opposite the dresser, there was a little more room between the bed and the wall, which had two doors. One led to a large walk in closet, the other the master bathroom. There were small windows up high, lining the walls that the bed and dresser were pressed against, letting the light of day in without ever being in such a position as to disturb someone sleeping here. The walls were panted to hip height with an earthy brown, the top half a celery green that didn't really match the rest of the decor, but that Grillby left the way it was anyway. It didn't clash, at least. Finally, the floor was polished and enchanted wood, the same as most of Grillby's house, but had a large throw rug covering most of it. 

The room overall looked like a magazine cover, be it a rather bare one as there was a fair amount of unused space. After a few thousand years of acquiring wealth, he started investing in higher end products for himself. While Grillby was hardly the richest monster in the underground (he gave away too many free meals for that) he was certainly the most well-off in Snowdin. This was a fact that very few people realized, as for the past several hundred years the elemental had kept mostly to himself. Visitors were rare, and while you could tell it was one of the larger houses in town, the exterior was hardly exquisite. Simple yellow paint with white trim, and a strange red roof that no one ever noticed due to the constant snowfall.

Grillby's arm was cramping a bit from carrying blue eyes. Not that he was at all heavy, it was just an awkward position for Grillby to hold his arm. Gently pulling his other hand free from the smaller child, who quickly sank to the floor to keep from falling, he laid blue eyes down on the top of the bed. Now, without any hurry, the elemental could finally get a better look at him.

The child seemed older than the one now sitting on his floor, but more because of bone structure then anything else. He was, as Grillby guesses it, no younger than eight and no older than thirteen. It was hard to tell, the boy was so short and... Grillby couldn't think of a work to describe it accurately. Malformed wasn't the word he was looking for. Stout? Regardless, his proportions seemed somewhat odd. The younger one was easier - he had a very classic skeleton's figure, and Grillby would bet he was barely a year off of six, one way or the other. The boy's body was bent in some places, a few ribs warped where they had obviously been broken and then healed poorly. More prominent were areas - a terrifying number of them - where the bone was whiter and thickened with new growth in clear, straight lines. These lines were most obvious in the rib cage, where the same mark would flow down from one bone to the next. They were too precise to be on accident. Too... Surgical.

Grillby felt dread gathering in his throat. _' _The_ Doctor,'_ he thought to himself, remembering how the child had stressed his words _'Not _The Doctor_.'_

Grillby moved away from the bed.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The child on his floor asked.

"I'm going to get you two some clothing." Grillby said, struggling.

"OKAY?" The skeleton replied. His tone held a sense of confusion that Grillby didn't understand and didn't have time to analyze. His temper was about to get the best of him, and letting the child see it would do no good. Carefully, he stooped beside the kid.

"I'm going to put you on the bed with your brother, okay?" He said, his voice now straying from intentionally calm and soothing to something more honeyed as he tried to hide his fear and disgust. The kid, sensing this, made a movement back and away from Grillby, eyes open wide for a second, then froze as he looked at the form of his brother on the bed. Grillby felt his gut wrench, but couldn't think to explain himself before the boy gave a curt nod. As Grillby picked the boy up, his eyes wandered over the rib cage, searching for similar markings. To his dismay, there were several, thinner then the brothers but still so awfully, unchangeably, there. Setting the child down, he walked deliberately out of the room, through the living area and out of the door where he allowed himself to expel his rage.

To Grillby, it seemed simply as though he was giving a silent scream. The sensation was the same, expelling pent up emotions through one long, frustrated expression. To the rest of the world, it seemed at though the man had exploded. The sounds of crackling flame became loud and intense as Grillby's fire flared upwards that it sounded as though the whole world was burning. His light brightened exponentially, chasing away the darkness with a ferocity only matched by the growing height of the daggers of flame. The snow sparkled with this light, much of it near him melting as the temperature around him climbed. And then, as soon as it had sparked, Grillby's fire died down to something faintly dimer then his usual form. Grillby stood and breathed, fearful that perhaps the release of energy had further destabilized him. After a few uneventful moments, he clenched and unclenched his fists before taking off his glasses. The glass had warped, and the frames were now useless with little bits of plastic and glass melted into them. With uncharacteristic carelessness, Grillby tossed them toward his trashcan as he reentered the house, not watching to see if they made it in or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how this chapter would've gone with naked Grillby...  
> Also, fun fact... My writing process is now to add a couple paragraphs to this every time I try to procrastinate by reading a AO3, but can't because none of the fics I'm reading right now have updated. This happpens... Far too often.


	8. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pap and Grillby get to know each other a bit... This counts as fluff, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I've become quite the lover of comments! If you have any you can toss at me, I would love it. It's really great to see what you guys actually think so far! Also, if you have any criticisms, I would love to hear peoples complaints about my work so that I can improve. Additionally, I do respond to all comments, including questions! If it's not major spoilers, you will get an answer.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the ramble.
> 
> P.S. Next chapter should be up by Monday. I already have it written longhand, just need to type it.

As The Monster left the room, Papyrus moved closer to his brother, waiting for the monster to disappear from sight before giving Sans a halfhearted shake. At this point Papyrus had realized that Sans wasn't going to wake up for a while. It was just like when The Scientist brought him back to their room while he was unconscious. Eventually the small skeleton laid down besides his brother, burying his face into Sans' scapula as he hugged the other skeleton tightly.

"SANS," Papyrus said, his voice trailing off.

Papyrus felt conflicted. Here he was warm and indoors, and The Monster hadn't don't anything so far to hurt him or his brother, but he knew that if Sans was awake he'd be urging them to leave saying that monsters weren't safe, that monsters weren't kind. Papyrus didn't know if he believed that entirely, since there were ones like the bunny monster. It was even a monster who had opened the doors for him the night he and Sans had escaped, but Sans didn't believe him about that. Papyrus had to believe that The Monster was trying to help. But at the same time he wondered why The Monster wasn't angry Papyrus had tried to hurt him. Hadn't he done a bad thing? Wasn't he supposed to be punished for doing a bad thing? Was The Monster really just getting them clothing right now, or...?

Papyrus shivered and tried to distract himself. He started trying to name all the different colors in the room, but he quickly got stuck doing that so he started counting different things instead. He started with the objects in the room, but that was easy. Eventually he focused on the number of threads in sheets. The minutes ticked by. After a while, Papyrus felt himself relax a little. The counting game got boring.

He wasn't used to the concept of a bed like this. It was up high - too high, he decided, and too soft. Back in the laboratory, their bed had been a thin rectangle of foam covered by a thin sheet of fabric, a tangle of rough blankets on top of it. Papyrus rolled away from Sans and onto his stomach, wanting to get a better look at the fabric beneath him. The plush microfiber blanket was made more for softness then for warmth, and Papyrus couldn't help but run his fingers over it curiously. The texture was entirely foreign, but he liked it. He smiled a little, thinking of his own blanket which Sans had gotten for him when they were in the wet place. His blanket. Other then his drawings, which The Scientist would periodically throw out, his blanket was the only thing Papyrus had ever taken ownership of. Simply because of this, Papyrus liked his blanket more, even if the one below his right now was softer. His blanket was smoother, and was a nice, bright color he didn't know the name of. It was like red, but better.

Papyrus breathed deeply, and flopped limply onto the mattress. He enjoyed the feeling of the comforter against his cheekbones, reaching a hand over to grasp one of Sans'. At some point he must have dozed a little, because the next thing he knew he was jostled aware as The Monster sat at the foot of the bed. The Monster had changed clothing, or at least had a shirt on now, and was carefully maneuvering Sans' body into a set a clean clothes, the type of which Papyrus didn't entirely recognize.

"Here," the monster said, handing him a set of similar garments. Papyrus studied them as he put them on. The shirt was plain and yellow, a cheerful, mild color, and was made of a soft stretchy fabric. Papyrus swam in it, but didn't really mind. The pants were made of a similar fabric, this time made of a pattern with many geometric shapes in it, each a different color. The background color matched the shirt. They were held on by a draw string, which Papyrus played with for a moment, pulling it all the way tight against his spine before pulling it loose again. Eventually, he settled on an opening that just barely kept the pants from sliding off over his hipbones. By then, The Monster had moved his brother beneath the blankets and was touching his forehead again. Papyrus wanted to ask what he was doing, but felt that he had already asked enough questions... It had startled him that he was permitted to talk at all.

"Are you hungry?" The Monster asked, causing Papyrus to jump a little. Papyrus nodded in response, and Grillby got up and left again, leaving Papyrus to wonder if he should follow. He couldn't think of another reason The Monster would leave the door open behind him like that, but he was also afraid to drop down from the bed in order to follow. So he just sat and listened intently.

He heard something clatter, faintly, and then a long period of nothing. Then The Monster gave a soft exclamation that Papyrus couldn't make out. Papyrus was curious about what was happening, and moved forward a little, towards the edge of the bed. There was a quick rhythmic sound of something tapping against metal, and then the gentle sound of tap water running. After just a few seconds, the sound stopped, and The Monster came back carrying a bowl of steaming liquid and with a towel flung over one arm. He set it on the dresser, before walking past the bed and through one of the doors. When he emerged, he was wearing gloves kind of like The Scientist's, only longer and thicker, and had a piece of cloth in one hand.

"The food will take a little while to heat," The Monster said, approaching him. "I thought it would be a good idea to wash up before you eat, but I also figured that you wouldn't want to leave your brother."

Papyrus couldn't keep from frowning. He hated being washed, but forced himself to nod anyway. The Monster was being nice and Papyrus didn't want to make him mad. When The Monster put the towel down over part of the bed and brought the bowl over that, Papyrus was confused. He didn't say anything, just sat nearby and waited. The Monster looked at him for a while, then back to the bowl.

"May I have your hand?" The Monster asked, offering his own. Papyrus put his hand in it quietly. "Tell me if the water's too warm."

The Monster took Papyrus' hand and placed it in the hot water. In the future, Papyrus would've asked for it to be cooler, but in the moment he was to surprised to say anything even if he wasn't trying to please The Monster. The Monster took it out and got the small cloth - Papyrus recognized it as a towel, now, but a tiny one - using it to gently exfoliate the dirt away, focusing on his dirt-packed palms. The Monster worked in silence, and after a little while the water was so dirty that he got up to get more. 

\-----

When Grillby came back, the child was looking at his half washed hand with an odd expression, but didn't complain when Grillby moved to clean it more. This cycle of getting new water continued for a second time, until both hands were mostly clean and Grillby decided it was time for a new washcloth. It was odd how the kid just limply let Grillby wash him, but the elemental tried not to think to hard about it. All he could do was try to help the children.

He was doing one final wash when he flipped one of the child's hands over to get the top of them. While running the cloth over them, he realized that the hands were asymmetrical. One of them was actually missing a sizable piece of bone from a carpal, and the metacarpals on that side were clearly scratched. He stopped to take a closer look and realized that both hands were damaged in similar ways, it was just more apparent on the hand he had noticed it on. It looked... Almost as if someone had drilled holes through some of the delicate bones, and Grillby felt another wave of rage rising in him. He squelched it, and continued washing the child's hand in silence.

When he finished, he looked up to see the child smiling faintly. They clasped and unclasped their hands and flexed their fingers experimentally.

"You liked it?" He asked, hoping to finally prompt the child to speak again. In response, he got a startled look, and then a hesitant reply.

"YES."

"I'm glad," Grillby said, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation. Without many other options, he decided just to be honest. "You didn't seem to understand what I was doing at first. Why is that?"

"I'VE NEVER FELT WARM WATER BEFORE."

Grillby was dumbfounded. That was... One of the saddest concepts he'd heard of in a while. He'd heard worse, of course, over all his long years. But the past many years had been good to people, good to monsters. For the most part, there was peace in the underground.

"IT FELT NICE." The child added.

Grillby nodded in response. "I've been told. Maybe after diner you could take a bath?"

It was like pulling teeth to get the kid to say anything. After a moment of expectant staring, he asked, "W-WHAT'S A BATH?"

"Kind of like what we just did, only for your whole body."

"IS IT NICE?"

"I don't really know, but that's what other people keep telling me. Me and water don't mix well. That's why I wear these." Grillby said, gesturing with the gloves. Honestly, he was being a little over cautious wearing the gloves for that amount of water, but he wasn't willing to risk it with his core already damaged. He still wasn't feeling very good. Too sluggish, occasionally a little light headed, and he knew he would need all his capacities full in order to care for the two children.

"OH."

"Anyway, I think the soup is probably done. I'll go get it."

Honestly, "soup" was a bit too generous a term for what Grillby had made. He had been in a rush and unprepared, so he'd simply taken a pan of leftover baked chicken and vegetables and chopped the entire thing roughly before boiling it in a pot with some chicken broth. Still, it seemed like a good option for the children. Mild and satisfying without being too rich. He put some into a bowl along with a spoon before carrying it back to the child, who once again looked perplexed as Grillby offered him the bowl. He moved to submerge his hands in it and Grillby took it away quickly, gasping in unexpected pain as a bit of the broth hit his hand with a sharp sizzle.

"SORRY," The child said immediately, his gaze once again cast downwards and his body tense.

Grillby didn't respond, putting the bowl down quickly as he hurried to treat his hand. To him, water was to fire is to other monsters. A little could be pleasant, snow or a very gentle rain to Grillby a sensation much like standing in the heat of a intense blaze, the kind that funeral piers and burnt down buildings are made of. Comforting, in a somewhat dangerous way. Too much water though, and the sensation was something akin to having the body eroded or the sting of toxin. Luckily it was easier and quicker for him to reignite such superficial flame as his hands were made of, as he simply cradled the damaged digits in the other hand holding them against his chest and closer to his core. A few seconds, and the pain subsided.

He picked the bowl up again, gingerly this time, and said with deliberately measured tones, "This is soup. You don't put your hands in it... Have you had soup before?"

The skeleton shook his head. Grillby couldn't help but feel despair, that, given the situation felt more like anger. The child wasn't speaking to him again, which in and of itself was irritating enough, but also had no idea what soup was. The kid had tried to wash his hands in the soup. Who does that? Who doesn't know what soup is?

He offered the bowl to the child again, who took it hesitantly. The Kid grabbed the spoon automatically, but looked perplexed when the bowl of it came out of the broth. He moved it around in the air awkwardly, and then smiled. Grillby realized he was looking at his own reflection and felt the himself give the barest of grins. After a few moments, the kid looked at the bowl again and furrowed his brow before looking at the spoon. Grillby had a sinking feeling again but it was unwarranted, as within moments the child started eating, albeit a bit sloppily. It didn't take long for him to finish it, and when Grillby asked if he wanted more the child nodded immediately. After he had finished that, Grillby took his bowl and deposited it in the kitchen sink before returning and sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed.

He felt a pang of envy, sitting on his own bed and touching the soft fabric. Not that Grillby begrudged the children it at all, he just wasn't looking forward to yet another night on the hard, stony hearth. He'd be sleeping there even if he hadn't found the children, his flames still to mal-controlled to trust them through the night without burning something.

The skeleton was watching him. Grillby looked back. He already felt the had made a fair bit of progress. The child looked relatively calm and content, even if Grillby still didn't even know his name. Grillby debated asking again but decided not to push it, instead holding out his hand again.

"May I look at your hands a bit more?"

The skeleton complied immediately, without the hesitation Grillby had expected. Everything about his mannerisms were docile now that he had calmed down. Obedient. If Grillby hadn't of been there himself, he never would've believed that this was the same child who had attacked him in the woods. He didn't really seem to focus on anything as Grillby gently manipulated his hands, getting a closer look at the damage, just stared off into nothingness. The only time he gave any sign of reaction was when Grillby ran his finger along the shattered carpal, flinching before submitting to the examination again.

While both the hands were a mess, one was mush worse then the other, and the damage was apparent even at a distance once you noticed it. There were a great deal of minor scuff marks, as well as some places where the bones had scratches of varying degrees webbed across them. There were at least five bones between both hands that had cracks in them, including the broken carpal, and a few more had tiny, regular holes that indicated their blatant intent. Grillby didn't really know much about how skeletons healed, but he had some general use magic-infused healing ointment he planned of tying until he called the doctor over. He just hoped the doc knew more then he did. Had the doctor ever even seen a skeleton before? Grillby wondered.

In the meantime, Grillby asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

The child nodded, before showing Grillby some places where his foot bones were misaligned and a few scrapes on his knee. Finally, he gestured to a hairline fracture ulna on the side that matched the shattered carpal. Grillby frowned, but said little. At least there was't anything life threatening... His gaze wandered to blue eyes. The child still hadn't woken up and it was starting to scare Grillby. Would he survive the night? Tomorrow Grillby could call the doctor, but he worried if the children would let another adult close enough to help.

It was time for a distraction. "Are you still interested in trying a bath?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A beta reader commented on how outrageously dirty I made Papyrus' hands. I responded that it was a fair observation, but that I've actually helped clean several skeleton models (I own a complete dog skeleton as well as a vast collection of skulls) and that those little spaces between the bones can get incredibly caked with filth... Particularly considering that these are two children that have been running on all fours. Plus, Grillby if a bit of a perfectionist (though also a klutz) so he might have been washing needlessly at some point.
> 
> The reason I bring this up is because the specific thing my beta reader said was "How dirty can bones get?"
> 
> I don't know... How dirty _can_ bones get? ;-)
> 
> I'm a terrible person. XD
> 
> Also, fun fact: "Spoon Anatomy" is now on my search history. I didn't know.


	9. Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Was wondering if I could ask you guys for some more help wich the fic today, since you did such a wonderful job suggesting cute things for the boys to do with Grillby. Basically, I need to know what other tags I should add to the fic to help people find is easier. I was talking to a friend of mine about this, and he mentioned how he always liked it when the community added tags to the work... So, I figured I'd give that a shot!  
> As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope this fic brings you enjoyment! Please leave a comment if you wish, and I will respond ASAP. :-)

Sans woke to a feeling of suffocation. Focusing on anything was difficult, and despite the pain in his chest he couldn't force himself to become alert immediately. He felt disoriented and weak, almost disconnected from himself, the details of the past several days an indistinct blur in his memory. When he finally came to recognize his surroundings, he found himself in a clean orderly bed. He was tucked in tightly, the ambient warmth of the building having seeped into his bones. He realized, vaguely, that after weeks of sleeping bare in the snow the situation should be pleasant. Instead, all he could think was about how the blankets were binding him, pinning down his legs and torso and making it impossible to move. He struggled against them, pushing the blankets off his body, but was unable to quite reach his own legs.

"papyrus!" He shouted, suddenly realizing that his brother was nowhere to be found. "pap?"

From a doorway across the room, Sans heard a sudden sloshing of water accompanied by a small gasp and the sharp tap of bone on porcelain.

"Wait!" he heard someone say, and there was a sudden silence before the water splashed again.

"There."

Suddenly Papyrus ran from the doorway, a fluffy brown towel draped over him as he ran to the edge of the bed. He put his hands on top and struggled to hop onto the bed, but he was simply too short. The Monster appeared behind him and swooped down to give him a quick boost up before retreating to the doorway. Within moments, Sans was pulled into a bear hug, the beads of water collected on Papyrus' bones giving it a slightly damp feel. Sans hugged him back, relieved his brother was alright. He'd been so afraid, the last thing he remembered had been The Monster taking slow, deliberate steps towards them. He'd thought that-

"SANS!" Papyrus said, his voice bright with a combination of relief and delight, "I TOOK A BATH AND-"

"shh, pap, the monster is right-"

"THE MONSTER GAVE ME SOUP AND WE-"

"papyrus, be quiet!" Sans said, and Papyrus pulled away from him to look at his face. Sans wasn't even looking at his brother, instead he was focused intently on The Monster, who was still standing unobtrusively near the doorway. Sans was hyperventilating, his eyes flickering with an unsteady blue glow. He still had one had clasp on Papyrus' shoulder, refusing to let go. He felt like if he did, Papyrus might fade to dust before him. His other hand was drawn towards his chest, which hurt more then ever, a sharp burst of pain accompanying every breath.

Sans coughed, and that cough turned into another fit. He couldn't breath this time and clawed desperately at the bed sheets as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. Papyrus looked aghast, trying to help him, but before any progress was made The Monster was beside Sans, pulling him upright and supporting his weight between a fiery arm and white-clad chest. Papyrus huddled close by, his hands resting lightly on Sans' forearm.

Eventually the coughing subsided and Sans was left oxygen deprived and gasping. He was sitting awkwardly between his brother and The Monster, who was rubbing his back with a warm, soothing hand. Sans wanted to pull away from The Monster, but at the same time the heat rolling off him was comforting, banishing the intense chills that kept rattling his bones. Besides, Sans reflected, he was too weak to resist. He couldn't shift and he couldn't teleport... What was the point?

"Are you alright?" The Monster asked, and Sans just continued to stare, his eyes glowing and unfocused. Behind him, he could feel Papyrus fidget uncomfortably. After a few moments, The Monster nodded slightly to himself. "I'll be back shortly."

The Monster stood slowly, allowing Sans to stabilize himself against the banister before he left. Without the blankets or the monsters heat, Sans shivered, but got his first good look at the material wrapping his body. He found himself wearing a cobalt blue shirt and dark gray pants, and reached out to touch the material cautiously. It seemed so strange to him to be wearing clothing...

With The Monster finally out of the room, all of Sans' attention shifted to Papyrus.

"papyrus, are you alright? did he hurt you?"

"NO... SANS, HE'S BEEN REALLY NICE. HE LET ME TAKE A BATH AND-"

"what's a bath?"

"IT'S WHEN YOU USE WARM WATER IN A TUB TO WASH THINGS. IT'S NICE, AND HE EVEN BROUGHT SOME LITTLE TOY ANIMALS THAT I WAS ALLOWED TO LOOK AT-"

"what did he want you to do for them?"

"NOTHING." Papyrus said, then "WELL, ACTUALLY, I HAD TO EAT FIRST, BUT THE FOOD WAS REALLY GOOD. I EVEN FOUND A NEW SILVERWARE! AND-"

Sans shushed his brother sharply as The Monster reappeared.

\-----

Grillby was carrying a tray when he returned. Papyrus had responded so positively to washing his hands, he thought that maybe Sans would as well, but as soon as he reentered the room and saw Sans he reconsidered. The boy watched him in the same way a mouse watches a cat, as though fascinated by the inevitability of it's own demise. It made Grillby feel a little sick, and he somehow doubted that forcing the boy to interact with him directly would help the situation, at least not until he's had a little while to acclimate to the elemental's presence. Instead, he put the tray down on the dresser and took a towel and an entire mixing bowl of warm water off of it, before placing the items between the two boys. Grillby had some misgivings about having that much water near his bed, but figured it was worth it, considering how many water changes it had taken to get the younger boy's hands clean.

Glancing at Papyrus, Grillby said, "Would you help him wash his hands? I need to get a few things from the bathroom."

Papyrus nodded in response. It was good to finally know their names, but somehow the elemental felt he shouldn't use them until they had been more formally introduced. After all, he was "The Monster" to them. Grillby smiled bitterly at the thought.

When he entered the restroom, Grillby closed the door behind him for the first time since the children had woken up. He didn't bother flipping the light switch, instead relying on his own illumination. He pressed his hands against the stone counter top of the sink, letting his surface temperature rise a little as it was quickly wicked by the cold marble. It was a comforting sensation.

Grillby had specifically looked at Sans' hands, remembering what Papyrus' had been like. He'd expected either to find nothing, or damage similar to the other boy's. Instead, he'd spotted thin metal bands attached to the bones with a series of small screws. If that wasn't bad enough, when he reentered the room, he realized the hand plates had a series of numbers and letters on them. Labels.

Grillby noticed there was a small object near his hand and picked it up. It was a little plastic dinosaur, one of the toys he'd brought down from the upstairs bathroom for Papyrus to play with while he took his bath. He turned it around in his hand with a sad smile, reminiscing about days long gone before casting a glance at the tub itself. There several similar toys stood lining the basin in a neat, orderly fashion, exactly the same as how Grillby had placed them there. Papyrus hadn't touched them, instead just staring at them and smiling contentedly as he sat in the warm water.

His reflection flickered in the mirror, catching Grillby's attention. He sighed. What was he even doing? He'd had his suspicions, sure - but this was so much worse then he had expected. His reflection frowned at him.

He looked more like himself, at least, but at a cost. He was afraid of frightening the children if he let his form appear as erratic as it actually was, but the magic he used to keep his body stable was being pulled directly from the pools of energy that should be repairing his core. In his damaged state, Grillby already felt exhausted despite only being up for a few hours. It was partially his own fault, he reflected, since he lost his temper and wasted so much energy melting snow... He kind of wanted to stay in the dark, peaceful quiet of the restroom, but forced himself to move. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled a few things out before rejoining the children.

\-----

Sans watched thoughtfully as Papyrus rubbed the cloth over his hand bones. It was an undeniably pleasant sensation, but after just a couple seconds Sans took the cloth from his brother and continued cleaning his hands himself. The dirt fell away in clunks, at first, leaving the water brown and muddy. When most of it was gone, he saw Papyrus wave for his attention. His brother smiled at him and held both hands above his face, flexing and unflexing the digits happily. Sans didn't understand at first, all he could think about was the warped section of Papyrus' hand.

It had been easier to ignore before, when it was covered with so much filth you could barely tell any damage was there at all. Now he could clearly see the break on both sides, light shining through where bone should be, and Sans felt his gut clench. It had to hurt. Whenever The Scientist did something to their hands it hurt a lot, and breaks like that were almost always worse then the cuts. The worse part was that he'd done it himself. Sans had been the one to hurt Papyrus... It had been necessary, he kept reminding himself, but that didn't keep him from feeling guilty.

A grumpy noise from Papyrus brought Sans back to reality. The younger skeleton had an irritated look on his fact, and he gave one last exaggerated flex of his hands before pointing at Sans'. Sans picked his hands up and balled them into a fists, before releasing and spreading the digits. It went smoother then he was expecting, less grating and pinching as the bones slid over each other. Without the dirt coating his joins, Sans barely felt anything as he flexed them. He looked at his brother with the barest hint of happiness, then wiggled his fingers at Papyrus who gave a quiet, stifled giggle in response. Suddenly Sans' grin was earnest, and he leaned towards his brother, making a silly face as he continued to move his fingers. 

"NYEH-HEH" Papyrus said involuntarily, covering his mouth before he laughed too loudly. Sans loved his brother's laugh, and was convinced that it was the best noise in the world. It had happened so rarely in the lab. There hadn't been much to laugh about, and when there was, they didn't dare to. The Scientist hated the sound.

The bathroom door opened and the boys froze, Sans' turning quickly to face The Monster. Was he going to be mad that they weren't doing what they were supposed to? That Papyrus was laughing? Sans looked away and retreated back to the bowl, immediately resuming his hand washing, another stay cough escaping him. Papyrus, meanwhile, just sat on the bed, watching The Monster from the corner of his eye. Sans noticed that Papyrus didn't seem as concerned as he was, just mildly cautious, and felt a wave of horror. Did Papyrus _trust_ The Monster? His thoughts were interrupted when The Monster sat nearby with another bowl.

"This is soup," The Monster said, offering it to him. "It's for you to eat, if you're hungry. You can dry your hands off with the towel the water's on."

Sans did as he was told and took the soup. He saw the silverware Papyrus had talked about and picked it up experimentally, trying to figure out how to use it. He was startled when Papyrus was beside him again, grabbing the hand that held the spoon and twisting it until Sans saw his own warped reflection. Papyrus was grinning again, and Sans forced a little grin back but was too concerned about The Monster for it to be sincere. Satisfied, Papyrus left him alone to eat. At some point, The Monster took away the towels and the water bowl and put Papyrus' clothes onto the bed, which the smaller skeleton quickly squiggled into. When Sans was done eating, The Monster approached him.

"Would you like some more?" He asked. Sans shook his head. He was to wary to ask for more then he was given.

"In that case, I have some medicine for you and your brother." He took the tray off of the dresser and put it on the bed.

"This is ibuprofen, and it should help with the ache in your chest and any other pain you're experiencing." The Monster said, narrating what each medication was as he measured out dosages, "And this is a cough medicine, which is fairly self explanatory. And then this is an ointment for you and your brother's injuries to help them heal and prevent any more infection."

Sans didn't know why The Monster was bothering to explain. He could make them take it, either way. He could make them do anything, really, and they'd have no way to stop him. Sans' memory was clearer now and he remembered how The Monster had reformed himself after Papyrus had blasted him, how little time it had taken him to get back up again and come for them. It wasn't supposed to _work_ that way. The Blaster form was supposed to be able to stop _anything_. Even The Scientist would stand behind special glass when he was testing them. And The Monster had gotten up like it was nothing...

Sans closed his eyes and shivered. When he reopened then, The Monster was holding out a little miniature cup of medicine and a few pills for him. He didn't want to take them.

The Monster seemed to sense this, and said, "It's not going to hurt you, I promise."

"how do i know that?" Sans said, surprising even himself with the amount of pent up anguish in his voice. He hadn't meant to speak, the words just came tumbling out on their own.

The Monster pulled the medicine back and looked thoughtful for a second. Then, to Sans' shock, popped the pills into his own mouth before swallowing the purple sludge he called cough medicine. The Monster gave a quick shiver, his flames flaring for the barest hint of a second as he made a noise of pure disgust. Then, he looked at Sans.

"It does not taste good," He said, with a hint of humor in his voice, "But I didn't die, so I don't think you will either. Since I took some, would you be willing to?"

Sans blinked, then nodded weakly. He felt lost. The Monster had taken the same medicine he tried to give Sans, which meant that it couldn't do anything that bad, but... Sans didn't understand, and that just made The Monster more intimidating. He swallowed the pills first, and then The Monster handed him some water with the other medicine. It tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, and left a mild burning sensation as it went down his throat. He couldn't help but made a noise similar to the one The Monster had made. At least he was able to use the water to wash it away.

As soon as Sans had taken the medicine, The Monster's focus shifted to his brother. Papyrus held still as The Monster took his hand, though both boys winced as The Monster's hand brushed against the shattered bone. When he started applying the clear ointment, a look of immediate relief came across Papyrus' face. The Monster moved from hand to hand, treating every scratch and hole he could find before moving to inspect the child's feet. There weren't as many places the ointment could treat there, and Papyrus had more trouble staying still, suppressing giggles every time The Monster brushed against the bottom of his sole. Finally, a little ointment was dabbed halfhearted onto Papyrus' cracked ulna, more for show then anything else.

Sometime during all this, Sans started feeling intensely drowsy. He hadn't even realized that the pain in his chest had eased or that his coughs had subsided, just that a warm, heavy sensation had settled over him. He considered laying down, but was to afraid of falling asleep and leaving his brother alone with The Monster. Instead, he remained upright but closed his eyes...

Sans jumped when something touched his shoulder and looked up to see The Monster looming over him. His adrenaline spiked, and he felt his eye start to glow again though the drowsy feeling hadn't entirely departed. The Monster crouched down beside the bed, and Sans realized that he still had the tube of ointment in his hand.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" The Monster asked, and Sans just nodded without giving any indication of where. It was obvious enough, and he wondered why The Monster even asked. There were chips and scrapes all along his arms and legs, since most of the time he had done the walking in blaster form, letting Papyrus ride on his back. He also had a distinct scratch on his head, and countless other injuries he doubted the little tube would take care of. The Monster seemed to realize this too, and only treated the worse of the scrapes. It was almost instant release from the pain, even if Sans had plenty of other injuries to complain about, and he sighed as he relaxed a little. He turned his head to find Papyrus had dozed of beside him, wrapped up in the blankets Sans had so urgently kicked off earlier.

\-----

When Grillby had finished treating his injuries, he shifted Sans gently into a laying position. The boy was holding onto consciousness by a string, and Grillby felt sympathy and a bit of guilt. The cold medicine had been a necessity, the child's cough so sever it left him gasping for air, but Grillby only had the nighttime version in his cabinet. It seemed a little dishonest, and he felt bad for deceiving someone as terrified and distrustful as Sans. Of course, Grillby was feeling quite groggy himself as he pulled a blanket loosely over the child. Unfortunately for Grillby, he had a great many things to do before the children woke up again.


	10. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby... Grillbys? You know. He does what he do.
> 
> Note to self: Do not write chapter summaries while exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was writing one chapter and it turned out I was actually writing four. Because of that this is... Kind of a sucky chapter. Take solace in the fact that next chapter will be coming shortly!
> 
> So! If you haven't noticed I've been updating several things about this fic, including but not limited to:  
> -Going back and editing some errors in the story itself.  
> \---This included editing in the names for previously unnamed charactors.  
> -Editing the fic's summary and tags.  
> -Going through each chapter and edited tags/notes accordingly.  
> Hopefully this adds to the reading experience for all!
> 
> This time around there are quite a few "serious" notes at the end of the chapter, because I didn't want to give you guys spoilers before you read the chapter.

When Grillby left the room, he glanced at the clock to check the time. It was too early in the morning to make the calls he needed to make, and too late to rest. He'd just oversleep, and then the children would go that much longer without proper care. Trying to keep himself busy, he wandered into his kitchen, cataloging what he had and what he would need to take care of the children while cleaning absentmindedly in the same manner he did in his restaurant. 

He wondered how long they would be staying with him. They obviously couldn't go back to where they had come from, that was certain. Already there was a part of him that had grown attached to the pair, but he kept trying to dismiss it. After all, he was hardly qualified to take care of two children with such dubious history. There had to be better homes for them. And besides, he'd already proven what he was like as a father. Grillby stopped wiping off the table and looked down at the rag he was holding. With his other hand he grabbed the back of the chair he was behind and leaned into it, before sighing and rubbing a hand against his neck. He'd lost track of his mental list and tried starting over, but couldn't focus, not really.

How long had it been since he'd really thought about them, anyway? Earlier today, sure... But before that... It had to have been years.

Grillby glanced at his stairwell. It wasn't just in his attic he kept memories in. He knew that he needed to go up there, so he did, slowly, one step at a time. Eventually he was just standing there, staring at the door, unable to bring himself to open it again. There was something funny about that, since he'd just gone in there a few hours ago to retrieve the pajamas. Grillby didn't laugh. Instead, he took hold of the doorknob.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by a familiar yet melancholy sight. The room walls were painted different colors, one red, one blue, and one yellow, with the remaining wall and ceiling plain white. The boys had painted their room that way themselves, decades ago. They had been so excited, especially Kai, who had spent hours selecting what he claimed was "the right" yellow. Now, some of the paint was peeling away after years of neglect and there was a thick layer of dust - not the kind from monsters, though it might as well have been to Grillby - settling only all the objects in the room.

Aidan had always been the more reserved of the two. Not quiet, exactly... He had his moments of being every bit as brash and bullheaded as Kai was. But different. Aidan liked building things, painting models, and learning how things worked, while Kai was easily bored by quiet activities, preferring to talk, and was more prone to adventure. Kia had loved the outdoors while Aiden seemed to find the outside world more of a nuisance. Grillby was reminded of this as he looked at one of the bookshelves, where Aidan's well organized, precisely painted models clashed in contrast to Kai's haphazard arrangement of army men and the large plastic dinosaur, who, judging by how one of the green plastic figures hung from it's mouth, was eating them.

Honestly, the boys never got along particularly well. It was hard, sometimes, to believe that they had come from the same womb. Same birth, even, yet they looked and acted so different that no one would guess they were brothers. They didn't hate each other or anything, in fact they loved each other deeply, but the number of times Grillby had to separate the two... He sighed at the memory. It had been Tisiphone's idea to have then live in the same room, hadn't it? Grillby didn't really remember.

The beds were still made, and Grillby wondered if his sons had ever actually made their own beds, or if Tisi had made them before she left. Not that it mattered, the boys were gone either way. So was his wife and their daughter, Etney. Grillby felt a little like a family heirloom, passed from generation to generation, though nothing was farther from the truth. He'd fallen out of touch with his bloodline a long time ago, until a few years ago he had been contacted twice in the same month concerning great-great-great grandchildren.

Fuku was a wonderful girl, though it was actually her uncle who had called him. She was just an infant when there was an accident, and both of her parents died, leaving her to the care of a young and clueless non-elemental. Sebastian was a good man, though, and with a little help from Grillby quickly adapted to the challenge of raising a child when he was barely an adult himself. They still invited him to dinner, sometimes, and every once and a great while would come to visit. For the most part, though, Fuku was working very hard both in and out of class to get herself through school, since while Sebastian had put a little money away for her, he wasn't able to help her much because he was just starting his own family. Despite liking the man well enough, Grillby and Sebastian didn't have much in common, so he hadn't really bonded with Sebastian's new wife or daughter beyond the usual pleasantries. For Gyftmas, Grillby usually covered whatever was left of Fuku's bills... And gave her and her family some small tokens out of affection.

Heats Flamesman, on the other hand, Grillby did not have as high of an opinion of. He was just past 30 now, and still living in his mother's house. He didn't even have a reliable job! Too busy trying to "find himself". He wasn't a bad guy, though, just a little... "Undermotivated", was the term Mrs. Flamesman used. When he'd contacted Grillby it was to ask for a loan for funeral costs, it had surprised Grillby immensely. Grillby had never even met Heats' father, but apparently one of his relations at some point had a one night stand that resulted in unplanned pregnancy. None the less, he'd given the money without ever expecting repayment, and over the years had given Heats and his mother a few other "loans". Whether he liked it or not, they were family, and he was rather well off. Plus, he would begrudgingly admit that he fostered some admiration for Heat and his mother which he felt deserved a little reward. Mrs. Flamesman was an undeniably sweet lady, and somehow the two always managed to look on the bright side of things, though Grillby wasn't certain if he attributed this to optimist or to idiocy.

Grillby sighed. Being in this room for too long made him feel a little sick. He knew it was unhealthy... Empty rooms, empty house. The elemental felt stuck, yet wasn't entirely sure he wanted to free himself. What would he really have left if he moved on?The guard dogs? His regular patrons? Even though he could truly say he loved Fuku like a daughter, he also knew that she wasn't really his. That _her_ family wasn't really _his_. After all, she rightfully called Sebastian father. At best, he was an old family friend, or maybe (Grillby privately hoped) thought of as an uncle. At worse, he was her mentor. It didn't really matter. He'd always be there for her.

Grillby tried to check what time it was using one of his sons' alarm clocks, but realized that the batteries must have died years ago. He went downstairs to check the time, and was pleasantly surprised to find it appropriately late to call the doctor's office. Earlier then their posted hours, sure, but he happened to know that Capri, one of the doctor's offices' secretaries and a nightjar monster, was slightly crepuscular in nature and tended to get into the office around this time. She'd grown up in Snowdin, and at one point during her adolescence Grillby had hired her in an obligatorily vague position so that she could work while attending classes. Regularly she'd come in early and help him with prep work, disappearing before the customers came for breakfast and not reappearing until sometime around the evening dinner rush, when she would work as a waitress. She'd always been a friendly, talkative girl, and patrons often commented that she gave excellent service.

He checked to make sure Sans and Papyrus were still sleeping before he called the doctor's office, and was relieved when he heard Capri's cheerful chirp on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Waterfall Family Medical! This is Capri speaking, how may I help you?" Capri's family had come from a small side cave just south of Temmie Village that was mostly inhabited by nocturnal monsters, and as such still had a discernible accent.

"Hey, Capri. How are you?"

"Grillby!?" Capri said, her twittering voice betraying her surprise, "My gosh, it's been months, hasn't it? I'm doing great! Doc' Ambrose told me that you had gotten injured pretty badly a few days ago. Are ya feelin' any better? I guess you're callin' to schedule a check up after that, aren't 'cha?"

"No, actually. I'm afraid I need to schedule a house call for two children..."

"Oh, I see. May I ask if your would prefer Doctor Ambrose or Doctor Bede? Wait, no... Let me guess, Ambrose?"

"Actually," Grillby said, knowing both physicians fairly well, and that they would both do an excellent job taking care of the children, "I'm more concerned about getting the kids seen quickly rather then who they see."

"Oh," Capri said, "I'm afraid that might be a bit of a conundrum, then. There's been an unusual amount of heat in the water these past few months, an' because of that we've been swamped with sick fish monsters recently. In fact, Ambrose is on leave for the next couple days to take care of his daughter... Poor thing has a nasty case of Hypoxia the other day, an' since she's normally such a challenge no one really noticed until she passed out. Without him available, Doctor Bede's scheduled all the way out to next week... I can talk to 'er, though, and maybe she can arrange for her or Ambrose to come out after their normal hours. Still, it might be a few days..."

"I understand, Capri. Thank you... Could you please have them call me well in advance, though? I have several concerns and it might be somewhat difficult to get the children to cooperate."

"May I ask?"

"Sure, but Capri," Grillby said, "Please keep this information close to your belt, okay? Only tell it to the doctors, and let them know that it may be part of a criminal investigation, alright? We... We don't want the details of this event getting out just yet, I think."

"You know you can trust me," Capri said in response. "I promise."

"About, oh, let's call it ten days ago I started noticing my trash was getting knocked over and riffled through."

"Oh, dear."

"Yeah. Anyway, one day I hear this happening early in the morning while I'm doing prep work-"

"I remember those days."

"-and I go out to find to monsters going trough my waste to find themselves food."

"No!" Capri said, shocked, "I can't believe that, Grillby! You said we were talkin' about children, here..."

"That's not the worse part of it," Grillby continued, though he was beginning to regret saying anything to Capri at all, "I managed to get them into my house yesterday and, well, they show obvious signs of physical abuse."

On the other end, Capri was silent. Grillby struggled to think of a time he had heard the bird monster struck speechless. He could hear her swallow on the other end, before murmuring "just a minute" to him. He waited, listening to the sound of the phone clicking on a hard surface and the rustling of papers.

"Okay, Grillby... Here's what I want to have you do, ya hear? Try to document as much of the damage as you can without making the children uncomfortable, okay? We're talking photographs, video... Whatever you can do. Try to make sure they feel comfortable, though, 'specially if you're the one who's going to be carin' for them for a while." She said when she picked up the receiver again, and Grillby was startled by her professional tones, "Now, do you think that there are any injuries bad enough to be life threatening?"

"No, but one of them has a really nasty cough. I think it's pneumonia."

"Knowin' you, I imagine ya know how to take care of that on your own. When the doc comes out, though, I'll make sure they take some antibiotics with them. Now, I'm going to try to arrange it so that one of the docs are out to see you as soon as possible. I'm sure that if I tell Doctor Ambrose what you told me, he'll be over in a flash. After all, Undyne's a tough girl... I think he really just took a few days off to spend some time with her. His wife's been busy too, as of late, an' I think they both feel guilty 'bout not spendin' more time with 'er. All sort of junk's been happening due to this crazy weather we've been having... Thank the heavens things seem to have settled down lately, a little. I don't think the underground would've been able to take much for of this!"

"Seems to happen every five years of so," Grillby commented, "The strange weather, I mean. I wonder sure what causes it... Never had problems like that twenty, thirty years ago or any time before. Anyway, I shouldn't take any more of your time, Capri. You've been wonderful. Thank you."

"No problem, Grillby. You just take care of yourself and those children, ya hear? Are ya sure you're alright, though? I mean, Ambrose said you were pretty beat up..."

"I'm fine, Capri... Little bit of water, that's all. I just need a good rest."

"Alright then, Grillby. Good luck! Bye bye!"

"Bye, Capri. You have a nice day."

Grillby held onto the phone after he hung up. It was inconvenient that it would be a while before the children got treatment for their injuries, but at least Capri had given him some good ideas. It was wise to document exactly how he had found the two children for later, when they found whoever did this. Grillby's grip tightened around the phone, then he forced himself to relax and put it down on the table. He realized that he didn't have a camera and grabbed a pad of paper, scratching down that and a few other things he knew he needed to take care of the kids. It wasn't until his fingertips scorched the paper that he realized how hungry he was.

Right. Food. It had been a while, hadn't it? He looked around his kitchen for something quick and both easy to make and easy to burn. He could, of course, gain energy from the materials he burnt with his body, but it wasn't quite as efficient at getting energy to his core, which was where he needed it the most right now. That being said, Grillby had some peculiar eating habits. He has a taste for a number of things normally considered non-edibles, as well as a distaste for any food primarily liquidus in nature. Thus, he found it rather ironic how many praises he got for his soup, considering that he'd never touched the stuff. 

Eventually, Grillby settled on heating some oil and slicing some potatoes for fries. He didn't bother to let them drain for very long at he pulled them from the oil, knowing he would enjoy the extra grease. When he was cooking for his business he tried not to engage in such bad habits, but there was a reason why Grillby's had a reputation for being on the greasy side: Grillby loved the stuff. He finished his plate quickly, flames cracking a bit with the remaining moisture of the fries but in a hearty, satisfying way. The act of cooking and eating had calmed him, slightly, and he reflected how fries might be a good snack for the kids at some point, absentmindedly adding "ketchup" to the list of things he needed. He looked again at his stove top, debating making a few more fries for himself before he opened one of his cabinets and grabbed a bag of dried pine-cones to snack on. They were a personal favorite of his, and, a long time ago, Aiden's as well.

Grillby frowned. He tried to let his mind wander again, but he couldn't. When he tried, it either went back to his past or the children currently sleeping in his room, the children with broken hands and cracked ribs. He looked at his list on the table and picked up the phone again. He decided he might try to call in that favor, but was startled when Dogaressa answered the phone with a low, tired growl.

"Snowdin Royal Guard, what is you emergency?"

"Dogaressa?"

"Oh, Grillby. I was just-" Grillby heard the alpha yawn, "-Finding and filling paper work on those two children. How are they?"

"They're sleeping right now, and honestly-" Grillby looked around again, "Dogaressa, these children went through hell. I mean, if I got hold of the bastard who did this there wouldn't even be any Dust for the funer-"

"Whoa, Grillby! Easy there, pup! Can you tell me exactly what you mean?"

"They're covered in scars. And not just any scars either - these are intentional, and I think-" Grillby's voice was growing a little frantic. He couldn't help but think of scars like those on Kai. "No, I know, I just don't want to say it..."

"Grillby?" Dogaressa asked, her tone now free of any hint of drowsiness.

Grillby realized that he had to sound crazy. There couldn't be anyone in the underground who would do that to children. It just wasn't possible. Yet obviously... He took a long breath, moving to the kitchen counter and pressing his hand against the cold stone to vent some of his frustration. He wasn't doing any good getting emotional. He blamed himself for not getting any rest, it was making him a little more reactive than usual. He wasn't thinking as clearly as he would like too.

"I'm sorry," He said evenly, "I got a little emotional there. It's been a long night, do you mind if I start over?"

"Go ahead."

"I believe the children's names are Sans and Papyrus, though both of them refuse to tell me directly. They're very quiet for children, even in the state they're in, and refuse to really talk to be, though honestly I haven't really pressed them to. They're so suspicious, and they tense up whenever I'm so much as in the same room as them. They keep watching me like they expect my to-" Grillby paused, "I don't know. Hurt them, I guess, is the easiest way to say it."

"I know Papyrus at least is terrified of "The Doctor", and Sans... Sans has these metal tags attached to his hand bones. They're quite clearly labels - I tried to memorize what was written on them - ASP-5S, I think? And then what appears to be a bar code. I think Papyrus had one two, but at some point it got tore off. His hands are a _mess_ , Dogaressa, and the kid hardly seemed to notice until I put some healing ointment in it and suddenly he was all smiles. And then they have all these scars all over them."

Grillby let himself trail off, "Anyway, you get the picture."

"Yeah." Dogaressa's voice was tense. "Did you call a doctor to see them? I think we're going to need a proper medical exam for this case."

"I did, but it will be a few days before they can come out. Because of the situation I didn't want to use a doctor I wasn't familiar with, so I'm waiting for either Doctor Ambrose or Bede to be available. Plus, I figured it wouldn't be bad to have the Royal Guard as involved as possible, make sure the captain has free access to any of the information she needs. The same weird weather that caused the collapse has been causing illness in Waterfall, and I've been hearing rumors of other issues elsewhere."

"Yes," Dogaressa said, "In fact the captain herself is overwrought with work right now. I called her during normal office hours and she asked if I could wait until the evening. Didn't hear back from her until 9:30 last night. She says that all sorts of monsters are going crazy in this weather, getting more aggressive, most of them because they can't protect themselves and don't know what to do. The Moldsmals started acting up first, but now we've got a dozen types of monsters acting this way and no real way to stop it. I filled her in on what's been happening, and she said that she'd be over to investigate as soon as things quieted down... In the meantime, I've been up all night trying to file paper work that I have no idea what I'm doing with, because the captain normally takes care of serious cases like this and every protocol I find is at least ten years out of date."

"I understand," Grillby said, "Which leads me to my next question. Any idea how long the children are going to be staying with me? It's not a problem, I assure you, I just need to make the proper preparations."

Dogaressa gave a sigh, "Honestly, Grillby, I have no idea. What I talked to the captain she said there hadn't been a case like this in ages... Like I said, we have protocols for this type of thing, but I took a look at them and they've got to be years out of date. Captain seems to think it's fine that they're staying with you, since you have such a long history of working beside the guard during emergencies and a clean record. My guess is that, if you're willing, the kids will probably be with your for a few months. Is that alright?"

"Of course. I mean, I'm a bit worried that I can't really help them with all the trauma they've been through, but I have more then enough resources to take care of them. And..." He paused, "It might be nice to have some company, for a little while."

"You're sweet, Grillby." Dogaressa responded, "I can't think of anyone better suited to take care of them. Though, I have to ask - have you dealt with children much before? I've seen you dote on them when a family comes into Grillby's, but they can be a bit more of a challenge when-"

"Yes." Grillby said, his voice crackling a little.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I've dealt with children before." Grillby said. He really didn't want to get into it. "Maybe you remember Fuku?"

"Oh, yes. That's right, I'd forgotten. How are you related to her again? I don't know if you have any brothers or sisters, now that I think about it... How is Fuku doing?"

"Great, last I heard from her she was completing her fifth semester of college."

"That's wonderful to hear. Anyway, I should go, Grillby, I'm pretty exhausted and not entirely finished yet."

"Wait a moment," Grillby said, "I actually called to ask if you could send someone over here with a few supplies later. I'm not exactly equipped for kids here, and I could also use a little help moving a few things around for the boys."

"Sure," Dogaressa said, "That shouldn't be a problem. Dogomy's already doing patrols again even with his injuries, the fool, so we should have enough staff to spare someone for a couple hours later today."

"Oh, I'm sorry I should've asked. How is Dogomy?"

"He's recovering quickly, and I have you to thank for that. Honestly, if you hadn't of come when you did... Are you-?"

"I'm fine, I just need to rest a little. I'm glad Dogomy's alright."

"Me too," Dogaressa said, then, "Can I have you call back on Doggo's shift? It'll start in about two hours and go all the way to 3:00pm or so. I think he brings lunch with him."

"Certainly. Thanks, Dogaressa."

"Don't mention it. Like I say, Grillby, you're a sweetheart. Thank you for all your hard work."

Grillby hung up. A few months. The children would need a more permanent place to rest, toys, clothing... He ran a hand over his head and looked anxiously towards the stairwell.

Going up the stairs, he walked past his son's room and to what used to be his daughters. It was somewhat smaller, though not much, and had naturally emptied out as she had aged. When she moved out permanently, Grillby had converted it into an office for his business. The walls were a simple beige with dark trim, and it really only had a desk and a few shelves in it. Grillby thought he could put a bed in here for the boys. A dresser, too, and he would just move his office to the living room and... Grillby sighed. He was being foolish about the past. It was time.

It was unavoidable, yet Grillby still felt a little ill at the thought of cleaning out his son's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... Was written almost entirely with [This Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CjIkZTxdh4) playing in the background for audio. Why? I just happen to really like his voice. Not sure if I think it fits Grillby or not, but here's [How I Found Him](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AtCJ0N7yDI).
> 
> As a final note for Chapter 10, I'm amazed that this fic has done so well! Over 3,000 hits, 200 kudos, 100 Comments, and 50 Bookmarks! I know it's kinda stupid... But given how hectic my "real life" has been, it's really nice to know that one of my stress relieving activities (writing this) seems to bring other people enjoyment. I hope that this continues to entertain you as we wander into some of the chapters I'm most nervous about writing...
> 
> Brief notes about Grillby's family, more for my own use later then anything you guys need to worry about:  
> Tisiphone was Grillby's wife, who he often called "Tisi" or "Tis" as diminutives. She was a normal monster from Hotland (who else could marry the fire man?), and died of old age after the two separated.  
> Aiden and Kai were non-identical twins. Aiden took after Grillby, while Kai took after his mother, both mentally and physically.  
> Etney was Grillby's and Tisiphone's daughter, and was also born an elemental like Aiden was. She ended up having more of her own personality, both blended from and completely unique from either of her parents... Which isn't to say that Aiden and Kai's personalities exactly match Grillby and Tisi's, simply that the link was far more apparent.
> 
> Yes, Undyne's full name in this story is Undyne Ambrose. Ambrose as in the same as Ambrosia. As in the food of the gods. As in the food that grants immortality. As in her name is Undyne Immortal. As in Undyne the Undying.
> 
> God, I'm so original! :-D


	11. Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby cleans and Sans and Papyrus wake up. Dogs come, sit, stay (Good dogs!). Pictures are taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has a wrenched half-sibling entitled "I Had To (S)t(o)p The(n)"! If you enjoy this, you should check it out. It will not update nearly as frequently, primarily because I don't want it giving spoilers for this fic (they rely on bastardized myltiverse theory), and will only be about 3-7 chapters long.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Thanks to some of you, I've been able to add a few inspiration links. :-)
> 
> Also, check [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOlsP81zV4c) out.

The room had been striped to the bare essentials. Boxes lined Grillby's hallway, some destined for repair, others now mere waste, but the vast majority were destined for the attic. The room was now immaculate, his queasiness fading as Grillby got lost in familiar comfort of cleaning and organization. The only thing left in the room was the bunk beds. 

The two beds were tidily made but covered with dust, and over the years that had passed the bedding had acquired a faint musty scent. The top bunk was twin sized while the bottom one was full, which had been quite useful when Kai and Aidan were young enough to want to sleep together. Grillby had paused at the memory as he wiped down the wood, running his fingers gently over the scuffs and dents from wear. 

When it was time to peel off the old bedding, the overhang had made it difficult to balance while reaching the top bunk, and Grillby had stumbled as a result, catching himself against the lower bunk. With the room clear except for the blankets he now sat on, Grillby let himself lay back on the bed to rest for a moment. He felt a little numb, and couldn't figure out if it was from genuine exhaustion or what he'd just done. There was light streaming gently through the windows, which he stared at contemplatively, wondering how long ago morning came.

\-----

Papyrus woke with a start. He looked around frantic for a moment, only to find his brother laying silently beside him. In an instant, Papyrus' arms were around Sans. It took a moment to get a response, but soon his brother shifted below him, arms coming up to cradle his back.

"pap?" Sans said. His voice sounded worse then gravel, more like the shattered glass of dropped lab-ware, and, even for Sans, was quiet. Papyrus didn't like it, and buried his face deeper into his brother's side. He wanted everything to be alright, but his dream had unsettled him, and now Sans' voice, which he was used to having as one of his only comforts in the world, only reminded him of what had happened. "papyrus, what's wrong?"

"I HAD A BAD DREAM..." Papyrus said.

"what kind?"

Papyrus didn't respond. He could barely remember it already, the details fading from his mind like dust through bony fingers, leaving him with nothing but a terrified incomplete feeling.

"it's okay, bro. we're..." Sans trailed off. He wanted so badly to say "we're going to be fine", but couldn't bring himself to do it. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "we're okay."

"SOMETHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN." 

"what?" Sans said. He'd never heard his brother say something like that in his life.

"SOMETHING BAD ALWAYS HAPPENS."

Sans wasn't in a position to argue, but hearing it from his brother somehow crushed him a little. Papyrus was supposed to be... Well, Papyrus. This wasn't like him. He'd had bad dreams before, sure, but so had Sans, and he'd never said something so hopeless.

"pap, what ever happens i'll-"

"LAUGH. YOU-YOU-YOU ALWAYS LAUGH NOW."

"what? pap, i-" Sans pushed himself into a sitting position, grabbing Papyrus' shoulders so that the younger child had no choice but to face him. Papyrus' expression was a mask of hopelessness and anguish, and it made Sans' rib cage constrict to look at. "i don't understand. what are you talking about?"

"YOU KEPT LAUGHING-ING" Papyrus' started stammering again, various fragments of the words repeating until he could finally force himself to stop.

Sans didn't know how to respond to that. They hadn't laughed much while in the lab. It seemed like laughing would be an improvement, but he remembered his own dark chortles in the night. That hadn't really been laughing, had it? No, that was more like crying when you were past the point where tears would help you.

"i'm not... i'm not laughing now."

Papyrus just sniffed, reaching out for Sans again. He couldn't explain the dread that had filled him, so why bother trying? Papyrus didn't know what scared him more, the thought of being alone, or hearing that empty laughter again. Clinging to Sans was relatively little comfort when he was terrified of _would_ will happen, but it helped at least to reassure him of the present. The brothers embraced, Papyrus gripping the fabric of his brothers shirt as Sans contemplated and tried to sooth him.

Minutes passed and Papyrus slowly calmed before Sans said, "i'm not coughing, either."

"UM... MY HANDS DON'T HURT AS MUCH." Papyrus responded, his "t"s jittery but his panic fading away to be replaced by guilt. He felt like he'd just failed. It was _wrong_ for Sans to be pointing out the good things. Papyrus was the one who did that.

"HOW DO YOU FEEL?"

"i'm really tired, but i feel-" Sans had never really told his brother how he felt since they'd left the laboratory. It had been his job to make sure they kept moving, he didn't have time to tell Papyrus about all his aches and pains, and the constant doubt that loomed over him every step. He still had a lot of places that hurt, and the chills hadn't gone away, but he was able to breath again now, so he finished the statement with, "-good."

Papyrus smiled at him, and Sans felt a little better still. He'd actually done the right thing, for once. Sans blinked and it felt like his eyes stuck shut. Papyrus was better now, and the monster was nowhere in sight... Maybe he could get a bit more sleep? He was so tired...

"where's the monster?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

"he left the door open."

"HE DOES THAT A LOT."

"why?"

Papyrus shrugged. Sans was already sagging back into the bed, but Papyrus knew he wasn't going to be able to go to sleep again. As his brother's breathing slowed back to that of a drugged slumber, the skeleton approached the edge of the bed. Papyrus lowered himself down, stumbling a little and bruising one of his knees. Cautiously, he moved forwards with the occasional wobble. Papyrus _hated_ walking on two legs. He'd never gotten much practice in the laboratory, and it just made him feel clumsier he was already used to. He wished he could shift onto four legs again.

He kept close to the wall, hugging it to steady himself as he timidly explored the house. All the floors were hard, either stone or tile or polished and enchanted wood, and his feet clicked faintly as he walked over them. The living room seemed weird to him, and he avoided the throw rugs on the floor, uncertain of their trustworthiness or purpose even after walking over the one in the bedroom.

Eventually he came to the stairwell. Looking up it, Papyrus could see the flicking light associated with The Monster's flame and considered turning back, but then decided against it. _He_ was supposed to point out the good things, and The Monster _had_ helped them... Papyrus wanted to know what he was doing. The Skeleton took a moment before deciding to go up the stairs on his hands and knees, carefully to go slow enough that the cracks and pops of his bones hitting the hard surface were minimized. When he was at the top of the stairs, he paused for a while, faltering for just a moment before he forced himself forward.

There were a lot of boxes, filled with toys and other objects he didn't recognize. Papyrus looked at them briefly, tempted ever so slightly to reach out and touch, but restraining himself. He headed to where the light was coming from. The Monster was laying on a piece of furniture. Uncertain what to do, Papyrus stepped back just a little, his leg brushing against one of the boxes and sending a ball rolling across the floor before bouncing down the stairs. Papyrus flinched with each new impact, watching as The Monster startled up, hitting his head against the top of... Whatever it was... Before proceeding to sit up more carefully.

\-----

Grillby looked at the child blankly for a moment. His head hurt, and he rubbed a hand over the impact zone gently. What time was it? Had he really fallen asleep? It didn't feel like it, but the sunlight had shifted substantially and now only a sliver of light lay on his floor. He must have.

"Good, uh, morning?" He said. The child shrank back against the door frame. "How are you feeling?"

"MY HANDS HURT LESS," The skeleton replied, the "s" noises repeating under his breath.

"That's good." Grillby said. He felt incredibly awkward. "Where's your brother?"

"HE'S STILL SLEEPING."

"I see. Well, then, maybe we should go wake him up?" Grillby said. He got the impression that the boys didn't like to be apart for very long, but when Papyrus shook his head a little he paused. "Okay."

"Do you want to come over here?"

Papyrus took a couple steps into the bedroom before wobbling and sitting on the floor. He was staring at Grillby in a way that made him feel silently judged, the same way sheep stare at you when you go into their pasture. Instead of pressuring the kid to come closer, Grillby gave a little wave and moved himself to the floor as well, his back still leaned against the bed frame.

"Hi." He said because while repeating a greeting felt odd, trying to introduce himself again without it seemed worse, "My name is Grillby."

The child gave no indication of having heard him. 

"Your's is Papyrus, right?" Grillby was trying to use cheerful tones, the kind you only hear from babysitters and kindergarten teachers while the parents are watching

The child shook his head. 

"Really? That's what your brother called you, and you called him Sans."

Papyrus nodded.

"Is there something different I should call you?"

"SUBJECT ASP-6-P." The child said, murmuring the string of numbers nearly as if they were one word.

Grillby looked down and clasp his hands to keep himself from making fists. It was a little while before he looked up again. "And your brother is Subject ASP-5-S?"

"OR JUST S."

"I see." Grillby said, tones of deliberation in his voice. His surprise and outrage over such statements was dulling as he started to form a full picture of the situation in his head. He needed to remain calm and document as much of this as possible. It had been months since he last wrote in his journal, the small book encompassing years of information due to the brevity and infrequence of his entries. It was probably time to open it again. He wished it was for a happier purpose.

"I like Sans and Papyrus better. Is it alright if I call you that, Papyrus?"

Papyrus nodded. Grillby wanted to imagine he saw a smile, but it was hard to tell. Skeletons were surprisingly expressive when they wanted to be, but when they had as neutral an expression as Papyrus' it was easy to cast whatever emotion you wanted on their features.

"Well, Papyrus, I need to go downstairs. Is it alright if I take you with me?" Papyrus nodded in response, and Grillby pushed himself up slowly before turning to the bunk beds and gathering the bedding. "I'm going to put this away. I'll be back in just a moment."

When Grillby came back, Papyrus was standing unsteadily, waiting for him. He didn't like the thought of the unsteady skeleton trying to walk down the stairs, so instead he knelt down to pick Papyrus up. The child didn't protest, but he also didn't grab Grillby to steady himself as the elemental expected, leading to Grillby having to reposition his hold suddenly in order not to drop him. Before heading down the stairs, Grillby bent and grabbed a puzzle from one of the boxes in the hallway. Once down stairs, Grillby went to the kitchen, placing the child into one of the chairs and placing the puzzle box in front of him before picking up the phone.

"Hello, Doggo," He said into the receiver, "I was wondering if I could call in that favor... I need some supplies picked up for the kids..."

Grillby read the guard dog his list, adding a few items before thanking him and hanging up. Doggo would be by in a few hours, and Grillby was grateful not to have to leave the children alone or take them out in public. When he turned back to Papyrus, he sat the boy sitting uncomfortably, eyes cast down to the floor, puzzle box untouched before him. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Papyrus?" Grillby said, and the boy visibly flinched. He tried to soften his voice. The skeletons seemed to respond well to that. "What's wrong?"

Papyrus didn't say anything as Grillby approached him, kneeling down beside the chair until the young skeleton's head was actually a little above his own. Grillby adjusted his glasses. "You... Look very upset. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

\-----

"I-I DON'T-" Papyrus started, but fell silent almost instantly. He knew he was going to mess up speaking.

"You don't?" Grillby prompted. The monster's voice was hushed and gentle, it's tone reminding Papyrus a little bit of his brother.

"I DON'T WANT TO DO A TEST RIGHT NOW."

"A test?"

Grillby sounded confused, but Papyrus knew what rooms like this were used for. The tiles on the floor were a sterile off-white color, and the counter tops black and shiny. A large metal sink gleamed in the background, and though this room looked much different then the laboratory he was used to and he didn't recognize a lot of the objects in it, he recognized enough.

"You... Don't like puzzles?"

"I LIKE PUZZLES." Papyrus said quickly, focusing on getting his words out right so that Grillby didn't get mad, "I JUST... THOUGHT THAT..."

The "T" noise was stuck. The "T" noise always got stuck. Papyrus hated it. He tensed up in irritation, his little hands rolling into balls. He tried to avoid looking at The Monster.

"Well, this just happens to be one of my favorites..." Grillby said, "Maybe you and I could try to do it together?"

Papyrus shrugged, and Grillby leaned forward and took the puzzle box, narrating the scene depicted. Then Grillby poured the pieces out on the table and starting to flip them over. There weren't many, it was only a 100 count jigsaw puzzle, and some were a little bent. For the most part, though, it was in good condition. When he was done, Grillby started putting together one side of the puzzle. He kept encouraging Papyrus to try to put a couple pieces together, until finally the skeleton carefully started working with him. Every time he did something right the monster praised him. Before long, Papyrus was grinning, and when the puzzle was about halfway done, Grillby spoke again.

"You're doing a great job, Papyrus. I think you've got this covered. If you want to finish this up, I think I should start cooking lunch... Or dinner. Linner?" Grillby's voice had gone back to it's usual volume, but had what Papyrus would later recognize as indulgent cheer resonating through it. He had given a lot of little comments like that in the voice while they worked on the puzzle, comments that didn't really need an answer but encouraged Papyrus to nod or shake his head in response. It was nice.

Instead of working on the puzzle, though, Papyrus mostly watched Grillby as he moved around preparing something to eat. In a few minutes, there was a pot on the burner and Grillby came over to check his progress. Papyrus felt a little wave of doubt, expecting the monster to criticize what little he'd gotten done. Instead, Grillby said, "Wow, you got the entire horizon line finished. Won't be long until we start working on the town itself."

He picked up a stray piece and snapped it into place, then moved out of the room. Papyrus considered following him, but instead decided that he wanted to try to impress the monster by finishing the entire thing.

\-----

Sans woke to someone shaking him gently. The Monster was sitting beside him on the bed, Papyrus nowhere in sight. He wanted to demand where Papyrus was, but a mixture of hesitation and timidity kept him from speaking before The Monster did.

"Sorry to wake you up, Sans, but I'm making some food that will be done in a few minutes and you should eat."

He stiffened and looked at his hands. Hadn't The Monster noticed? There was still a little ointment treating a scratch right beside one of his hand plates. He looked up and The Monster was watching him, as though gauging his reaction. He tried to force his face into neutrality, and not reveal any trace of the mounting anxiety he felt every moment in The Monster's presence. Neither of them made a move for several seconds, and Sans realized that The Monster was trying to get him to speak. On the good days, sometimes The Scientist would do something similar, just stopping and looking at him for a while instead of asking a direct question. It always made Sans uncomfortable.

"where's my brother?" He asked.

"Papyrus is in the kitchen, playing with a puzzle. Before we join him, I hoped we could talk a little." The Monster replied, "How are you feeling?"

"i..." Sans paused, debating what to say. "i am functioning much better then i have in several days."

The Monster was frowning and Sans didn't know why. He'd answered the question correctly, hadn't he?

"That is... Good to hear." The Monster said. There was a long pause and Sans sifted himself slightly and tried to keep from panicking beneath The Monster's disapproving gaze. "My name is Grillby, I don't think we've ever really learned each other's names. It looks like you and your brother are going to be staying with me for a while, so I thought it would be a good time to introduce myself. Alright?"

Another pause waiting for a response. Sans gave a weak, "yeah."

"Would you like to go see Papyrus now?"

Sans nodded. He didn't protest being picked up, but remained stiff in The Monster's arms as he was taken through the house into a room that reminded him of his past. Papyrus sat next to a door at a small square table that was pushed against a wall. When the two entered, he turned, and gave Sans' a quick wave under the table. When Sans was put down in the chair next to Papyrus, The Monster leaned over between the two brothers.

"You've gotten a lot done, Papyrus." He said, "Would you mind if Sans helped you finish instead of me? Assuming he'd like to, of course."

"SANS?" Papyrus asked.

"uh," Sans said, "sure."

The Monster turned away and stirred something. Sans could see him in his peripheral vision as he helped Papyrus put the pieces together. There wasn't much of the puzzle left, now, so it was easy to do while keeping the monster in his sights. Then The Monster moved, and Sans heard ceramic clinking and the crinkling of a paper bag. He turned to watch The Monster, but The Monster looked up and saw him. With a sharp inhale, Sans turned and grabbed another puzzle piece.

"SANS?" Papyrus said again. Sans looked at him and the younger skeleton motioned to his eyes. Sans noticed he was casting a gentle blue glow across the pale sand depicted in the puzzle and forced himself to breath. The glow faded. The Monster was carrying two bowls and a bag when he approached the table again. He placed one of the bowls beside each child, the bag beside the empty chair.

\-----

"Only three pieces left," Grillby said, "I guess that means one for each of us."

He took one of the two remaining pieces and placed it into the appropriate spot. Sans was obviously very nervous and he wanted to distract the child from that, and hoped that focusing on the puzzle and the food instead of them would help. The older skeleton quickly followed his lead, leaving Papyrus to finish the puzzle. He did so quite cheerfully and with a small look of accomplishment. Grillby gave a long sigh, releasing some tension. There was something about a completed puzzle he very much enjoyed.

"Perfect timing," Grillby said, "Your oatmeal is done. It's not the best thing in the world, but I added a fair amount of sugar and some cinnamon, so it should be edible."

The young monsters looked at the bowls skeptically, but didn't say anything. Once they started eating, they didn't stop to complain, and Grillby took that as approval. Meanwhile, he picked up a book he had been reading before this all started and flipped to his dogeared page before opening his bag of pine cones. He popped one in his mouth before turning the page and reading, then eating another, and noticing that the room had gone suddenly silent. He put down his book to find both boys staring at him. He had a pine cone in one hand still. Oddly, it was Papyrus who spoke first.

"SANS TOLD ME NOT TO EAT THOSE."

"Well, you shouldn't," Grillby said. "I'm able to eat them because I'm a little different then you and your brother."

"OH."

Just then there was a knock on the door and Grillby got up. It had to be Doggo with the supplies. When he open the door, however, he found not one but two members of the Royal Guard standing before him.

Lesser dog barked a greeting.

"Hey Grillz," Doggo said, "You wanted a lot of stuff here. Hope you don't mind I asked Lesser to help me carry it all."

"Not at all," Grillby said, though he had been nervous enough about the children's reactions to one person, let alone two. "Please come in... The kids are in the kitchen eating."

"How are they?"

"Not bad, I guess." Grilby said, "They don't act like kids, though."

"Do you think it would be alright for me and Lesser to get a look at them?"

"Probably. We'll... Play it by ear, alright?"

The dogs nodded in response, and Grillby entered the kitchen first. Born boys were staring at him, wide-eyed, fully aware that something was going on.

"Sans," Grillby said, "Papyrus, we're having a couple visitors. They're just dropping off a few supplies for me to help take care of you right now, but this is Doggo and Lesser Dog."

The canines came in but didn't approach the table. Lesser gave a little wave with her free hand, her tail wagging slowly behind her while Doggo just said, "Hello."

Instantly, Sans' eyes were glowing. He stumbled of his chair and Grillby tensed, wondering if the boy was going to try to run away or attack. Instead, he just crouched down and moved beneath the table, his cyan eyes particularly bright in contrast to the gloom. Papyrus meanwhile was fairly impassive toward the strangers, reacting more to his brother's movement as he glanced beneath the table. In a moment, Sans was tugging his hand, and Papyrus joined him peering out beneath the table.

Grillby was surprised when he heard the clink of armor behind him, and turned to find Lesser Dog on all fours beside him. She moved forward a bit, only to have the boys shrink back in their hiding spot. In response, she whined before flopping on the floor and rolling over so that she was on her back before giving another sharp whine, trying to convince them to come out. From beneath the table issued a long line of growls, warped and weak coming from a humanoid throat. Grillby decided to step in, crouching beside the royal guard dog.

"Sans?" He said, "What's wrong?"

The skeleton gave no response, but Grillby could he was shaking, his hands pressed against the side of his head, fingertips clawing against the bone's surface. His brother was pressed behind him, between Sans and the wall. With a concerned look on his face, Papyrus tried to pull one of Sans' hands away from his skull, but was pushed away rather roughly. Grillby looked to Doggo.

"Should I try to get them out?"

Doggo shrugged and barked at Lesser, who twitched her ears and gave a series of distressed noises in response before rolling over again and looking at Grillby.

"Sans, Papyrus... Can you come out here, please? The Guard Dogs just want to take a look at you, they're not going to even touch you..." He paused, "They just want to see if you're alright."

Beneath the table came whimpering. Sans clawing was more pronounced, producing a sick scrapping noise like nails against wood. Papyrus kept trying to stop him, alternatively hugging his brother and trying to grab his arms. It made no difference, and Sans' clawing became more frantic over time.

"SANS!" Papyrus objected, "SANS, NO!"

Lesser Dog moved forward with a whine, but Grillby stopped her. "Let me try to deal with this. You two go out and wait in the living room... I think I know what's going on."

He didn't wait for the dogs to leave before moving forward and moving one of the chairs out of his way. Sans seemed to barely notice him, but Papyrus moved so that he was closer to Grillby, staring at the monster defiantly, his eyes flickering orange. Grillby stopped.

"Papyrus, Sans is hurting himself... No one wants that. I need to try to stop him."

The boy's expression looked torn. "HE-HE'LL STOP-P ON HIS-IS OWN."

Grillby frowned. For the first time, his voice grew stern, "Papyrus, I need to help Sans _right now_ , before he really injures himself."

The skeleton faltered. He shrank back as Grillby reached for him, but didn't struggle as he was gently pulled out from beneath the table. Sans snapped to attention, grabbing his brother's leg protectively. Grillby took the opportunity to loop an arm around the boy, hauling both from beneath the table at once.

"no!" Sans shouted, struggling against him. Grillby set Papyrus down on the floor and gave all his attention to Sans, at first trying to calm the child through gentle words before reluctantly grabbing each of his wrists as Sans became more violent, hitting him and squirming. He crossed the boy's arms in front of him, holding firmly enough to keep hold while making sure not to harm him and waited for the fit to pass. He couldn't see the child's face, just Papyrus' horrified expression as his brother writhed and screamed in the monster's arms. Slowly, Sans' stopped struggling, but Grillby didn't trust him enough to let go yet. He was still hyperventilating, and Grillby didn't know if he was listening. From the doorway, Grillby could see Doggo's concerned face, before he turned and went back to the living room.

"Papyrus?" He asked, voice quiet. The young skeleton shifted to look him in the eyes, a shocked expression overshadowing his features. "Your brother... Has done things like this in the past?"

The skeleton nodded. "How often?"

"NOT... VERY..." Papyrus said, his voice barely a whisper and thick with broken, repeated syllables, "NORMALLY HE'S VERY QUIET."

"I see. Does he ever hurt himself in other ways? Like hitting himself, or something else?"

The boy swallowed and blinked, his eyes shifting back to his brother.

"Papyrus?" Grillby said, the edge creeping into his voice again.

"HE USED TOO... BANG HIS HEAD AGAINST THE WALL A LOT... BUT DOCTOR-"

Sans struggled again and Papyrus paused until his brother stopped, left panting in Grillby's arms. " _HE_ DIDN'T LIKE IT. TOO NOISY. "

"Who didn't like it? The Doctor?" Grilby said, and Papyrus nodded. In his arms, Sans was still but shaking.

"Sans?" Grillby asked carefully, "Are you listening now?"

"let me go..." The boy pleaded pathetically.

"Alright..." Grillby said, "But you have to promise me you won't hurt yourself anymore."

No response. Grillby sighed and leaned back against the wall. It broke his heart, treating the boy like this, but he didn't know what else to do. Really, though, how much could Sans have hurt himself? Had it really been necessary to restrain the boy?

"Sans..." He said after a while, "What were you trying to do?"

"i don't know," came the response in a whimper.

"Did you... Remember something bad?"

Sans started sobbing, and Grillby hesitated. He didn't free the boy, but let go of his wrists and pulled him into more of a hug-like position. The boy was limp in his arms now, keening, and Grillby looked at Papyrus. The younger skeleton ventured nearer, touching Sans' shoulder before wrapping his arms around the other bony form, and Grillby moved an arm so the two could reach each other more easily and started rubbing little circles into San's back, between his shoulder blades.

"Are you going to try to hurt yourself again today?" Sans shook his head a little violently, and Grillby loosened his grip. The boys didn't move, and the three of them just sat on kitchen floor for a long time while Sans calmed down. Grillby got a better look at the scratches on the boy's skull. They weren't severe, and probably wouldn't even need treatment... Still...

Lesser's nose poked around the corner and she made eye contact with Grillby. The elemental gave a quick nod.

"Okay," he said, "We're going to go to the living room, now."

He changed positions to scoop up both of the boys and cradled them into the living room, where Doggo was sitting on the edge of his seat and Lesser was pacing nervously. He put the boys down in the corner chair, a large, generously padded thing he liked to read books and listen to the radio in. He'd had it for years, and it was the only piece of furniture in his house that actually hosted burn marks, though they were covered by a throw, and as such was somewhat removed from the rest of the room, close to the hearth. The other furniture could be replaced if they got damaged in such a way, but this particular chair was Grillby's favorite, and he was able to allow it's imperfection to stain his well kept living room in exchange for it's comfort to him. Both boys huddled in it, Sans avoiding looking at the guard dogs while Papyrus stared at them.

"Did... Did you bring the camera?" Grillby asked, hesitantly.

Lesser growled and Doggo translated, "You don't honestly mean to take pictures of the children now, do you?"

He sighed. "Things like this need to be documented, and honestly... I'd kind of like you guys here while I did that so I can give the evidence straight to you."

Lesser frowned but didn't say anything, and Doggo dug through one of the bags until he found the camera. He handed it to Grillby wordlessly. Grillby approached the boys again and knelt down, showing them the device. "Do either of you know what this is?"

Papyrus shook his head while Sans remained impassive. "It's called a camera, and I'm going to use it to take images of you guy, okay? Here, I'll take one of myself, first..."

Grillby took an awkward selfie. He noticed, gratefully, that Sans' was watching from the corner of his eyes. "Would you like to try?"

Papyrus held out his hands.

"Okay, just look here and press this button..."

The boy snapped a couple pictures. "Perfect. Sans, do you want to take picture?"

Sans slowly sat up and accepted the device. He rotated it first, looking at it curiously before holding it properly. He was shaking a little still, and handled the camera with a certain amount of delicacy that Grillby associated with someone terrified of breaking the thing that they held.

"How about you take a picture of my hands?" Grillby said, stretching his digits in front of him. Sans nodded and carefully lined the viewfinder up before taking a picture.

"Wonderful. Now I'm going to take one of you and your brother together, alright? Can you give me back the camera?" Grillby stood and took the picture, before reaching forward and reaching out a hand. "Can I take a picture of your hands now, since Sans took such a lovely one of mine?"

Papyrus nodded but Sans seemed to shrink back a little, covering the metal plates protectively. When Grillby finished taking photos of Papyrus' hands, focusing on the shattered metacarpal, he reached out toward Sans' and waited. The boy gave in almost instantly, but refused to make eye contact with the elemental. "What else should I take a picture of?"

Things when on like this for a while, Grillby alternating between pictures the Papyrus suggested and the pictures he knew he needed. Sans was silent and nonreactive unless given a direct question or suggestion. He just sat and watched, and when Grillby wasn't talking to him curled in on himself. Finally, there was nothing left to document except the abuse to the boy's rib cages... Grillby knew that Sans was on the verge of another episode, even though he was being quiet and cooperative. While he wasn't scratching at himself anymore, the boy would occasionally lever a fingertip beneath one of his hand plates and pull up until the bone ricocheted off the metal with a distinct tinging noise. He was being forceful enough that a couple of the screws wriggled as he did this, and Grillby was hesitant to push the boy any further.

At least Papyrus seemed happy enough. As soon as the stressing factor was removed, the younger boy had cheered up, as if forgetting what had just happened. Grillby wondered if it was a coping mechanism. He'd obviously been in situations like this before, and Grillby thought it was a little strange that the child could be so endlessly enthusiastic, though his personality was a nice contrast to the more solemn brother. It wasn't until Papyrus convinced Sans to take the camera again in order to take a picture of him that inspiration struck Grillby. The brothers would do anything to protect or cheer one another, and Papyrus was obviously the more intrinsically motivated of the two.

"Papyrus," he said, "What would you think about taking another bath?"

\-----

Sans knew The Monster was up to something, he just didn't know what. He kept using _the voice_ when he was talking to them, the one that sounded sweet like lies... but oddly hadn't ask them to do anything too unreasonable. Yet. The fact that The Monster had finally used his superior strength and forced Sans' to do something was actually a relief to the skeleton, even though the event itself had been terrifying. It matched what he thought monsters were supposed to do better, and made him feel like he knew what to expect. He just had to do what The Monster told him to, even when The Monster told him to do something in the form of a question.

The noise of running water thundered in the small room, and Papyrus' excitement was slightly infectious despite Sans' emotional exhaustion and general misgivings. He had taken his clothes off under The Monster's command, and was now standing half wrapped in a towel as The Monster filled the tub with water, adding something the dogs had brought him.

Sans did not like the dogs. They reminded him of the puppies after they had grown, and what The Scientist would do to them. What he would force _Sans_ to do them. When he had seen them at first, he felt immediate fear and guilt, memories surging intrusively through his mind. It wasn't until he heard the dogs talking that things got bad, and he could _hear_ the sounds the dogs had made in the laboratory again. He tried to stop it by scratching at his ears, but... The noise just continued. A least until The Monster had pinned him for a while.

The Monster turned to him. "You ready?"

Sans nodded. He didn't like the look of so much water, but Papyrus seemed delighted, so...

His feet were the first thing to breach the surface and Sans gave a little startled gasp. The Monster lowered him in slowly, giving him time to adjust to the heat and sensation, and soon he was sitting in the shallow water next to Papyrus, who was grinning fiendishly. Papyrus was playing with the surface of the water, which was slightly cloudy and smelled heavily of plants, watching the ripples from his fingers spread across the surface. Sans sank deeper into the water. He noticed, idly, that The Monster was taking more pictures before he offered each boy a piece of cloth like the ones from earlier. Then he sat on the top of the toilet for a while and started suturing a stuffed animal. Sans didn't see the point. He coughed a couple times and cringed unhappily, lowering his face closer to the water where the steam loosened the tightness in his chest.

The Monster noticed and looked at Sans, before he put the rabbit away and stepped out of the little room. One of the dogs came to replace him, and Sans tried to ignore this as turned his back to them, moving in the tub so that he was half-hidden behind the curtain that hung beside it. He leaned close to the water again, splashing some on his face to free it of the salt and grim that had accumulated there. As the water cooled, The Monster reappeared and pulled them from the bath, wrapping them in towels as he did so. He took them back to the kitchen, where their oatmeal sat, reheated, and offered it to them.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked, and the boys nodded. "Water or milk?"

"MILK?"

The Monster poured them each a glass of white liquid Sans immediately recognized. He hadn't had milk since Papyrus was young, and reached for it quickly. It wasn't the best thing in the world, but he considered the substance a bit of a treat compared to water. He also liked it because it was something he was familiar with. Beside him, Papyrus chugged the stuff. 

"Sans, I think you need to take some medicine again." The Monster said when he had finished, putting pre-measured amounts before the child along with a small cup of water. Sans swallowed it without a second thought. When he was done, The Monster picked them up again carried them to the stairs.

\-----

Papyrus recognized the room as the one he had found Grillby in, though there were now fresh blankets on the bed. They were colorful, with big mylti-colored circles on them. The elemental put the two boys down on the bed before sitting himself and speaking to them.

"I thought you guys might like to have your own space," he said, "And I know this isn't much right now, but I thought we could remodel this room for you two. In the meantime, I was hoping you could sleep up here anyway."

Both of them nodded silently and Grillby smiled. He took out the stuffed rabbit he had been working on earlier along with another one that was a different color. "These are for you, too..."

Papyrus took one while Sans just yawned beside him. Grillby set the other toy beside him without a word before he stood. "Will you be good here for the night?"

Sans was already laying down. Papyrus looked at him and crawled closer to his brother as Grillby walked to the doorway, bracing himself for darkness as the lights switched off. It was surprisingly bright, though, even though Grillby had mostly closed the door behind him, leaving only a faint sliver of light cutting across the empty room. It was startling to Papyrus, who was used to the only illumination in the night being the faint, distant glow from The Scientist's machines. He relaxed a little, still able to clearly see his surroundings. Some of the light seemed to come from behind a sheet of fabric hanging from the wall, and Papyrus approached it cautiously.

"don't-" He heard Sans say as he reached to pull the fabric to the side, revealing a scene of one of Snowdin's streets from above. There were a few lights on in the little town, causing the lightly falling snow to sparkle as it drifted down to the pure white ground below.

"A WINDOW..." Papyrus said. He turned to find his brother staring past him, through the glass, and smiled. "I LIKE IT."

"yeah."

"SANS?" Papyrus asked.

"uh-huh..."

"HOW DO YOU FEEL?"

"...tired, bro."

Papyrus turned to look out the window again before letting himself frown. He gazed the outside for a while, knowing his brother was watching until Sans' started snoring ever so softly behind him. Then he let the curtain drop, and hugged the stuffed animal tightly to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [THIS](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/06/1e/3f/061e3f4a3e0e8a6fa742f232a9acdede.jpg) is what Lesser looked like when she was trying to talk with the boys.
> 
> I had a bunch of cases of me mistyping "Sans" as "sna" over and over again. Now I imagine Papyrus going around yelling it at the top of him lungs. "SNA!!!!!!"
> 
> Another typo I had was "broke his heat" as opposed to "broke his heart" concerning Grillby... I really considered keeping that one.
> 
> Also, yes, apparently Monster Nyquil is some POWERFUL SHIT man.
> 
>  [FREE SADS RIGHT HERE, KIDS.](http://retrograde-entropy.deviantart.com/art/Undertale-Sad-Times-Page-1-of-5-580249474)
> 
> So... This chapter is late because I wrote it... And forgot to publish it... Good job, me. Additionally, something went wrong while I was formatting this, so AO3 did my the wonderful favor of adding "small" randomly throughout the fic, both the word and the html text mod... Let me know if you see it in an inappropriate place.


	12. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please, save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, you guys are going to hate me for this chapter! Because, well... See that Non-chronological is a tag? Let's play with that.
> 
> Next chapter is half written... Will probably have something to post Monday. It's a big one.

Away from the cold beauty of Snowdin, pale sunlight streamed from a narrow opening only cast its glow on delicate golden flowers. A boss monster tended to them, humming gently as their feet sank into the warm, rich soil. Despite the quite cheer of their movements, the boss monster felt solemn, reflecting again upon all the sins that weighted heavily on their backs. They tried so often to forget the things that they'd done, the people that they had lost... But the flowers never failed to remind them of what had happened. Sometimes they considered abandoning the garden and never looking at it again, but... Someone has to take care of these flowers.

Heaving a great sigh, the boss monster looked up to the top of the cavern, to the crack. How long would it be before another human fell? Did they want one to? They closed their eyes, and in the distance, they could here the birds singing. It was a beautiful day. The boss monster left they garden and went to settle down with a slice of pie and perhaps a cup of tea. Maybe they would read an old book. Maybe it would distract them.

As the boss monster settled themselves at the table, there was a sudden thudding in the distance. As the hammering continued, they realized someone was pounding on their door, desperate to come in. Immediately, they stood, rushing to investigate, only slowing what they realized who it was. A familiar sensation of heat grew in the boss monster's soul, the embers of a bond that they had long ago tried to stomp out.

It was their elemental who stood on the other side of the door. It was screaming their name, begging them to come as it pummeled the door. The boss monster stood frozen, unable to confront that part of their past so immediately... Eventually, the impacts slowed, the voice growing quieter, until finally there was silent. The boss monster was stood rooted to the spot.

"Please," They could hear the elemental say, voice barely audible through the door, "I know you're there. I can feel your presence in my core... Please."

The boss monster gasped softly, covering their mouth in surprise. Really, they should've known that he would sense them. It had just been so long and - shouldn't the bond have severed by now? They squared their shoulders and narrowed their eyes, coming to a decision. The boss monster grasped the door handles firmly and opened the door.

"What do you want, Inferno?" The boss monster said, voice cold and staring straight ahead. They only faltered after they realized the details of the scene before them.

Their elemental knelt before them, mere inches away from where the cold, hard surface of the door once stood, now replaced suddenly by the boss monster's body. There was a look of desperation on their face, a sadness the boss monster was far too familiar with, and one arm, the one that had been pounding madly mere moments before lay limp beside them. The other arm was clutched tight and close to their chest, securely cradling a young, unconscious monster. Neck craned awkwardly to meet the boss monster's eyes and voice crackling like a brush fire, their elemental continued to beg them:

"Please, save him... He's falling."

\-----

Gaster stood before his latest project, it's delicate frame illuminated by the core's glow. It was progressing nicely, and he believed that he had finally eliminated certain... Troublesome attributes previously identified in earlier trials. He could've eliminated them sooner, of course, but at the time that would've nullified the point of the project. Since then, the situation had changed, and his priorities had shifted.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over Gaster, and he held the bridge of his nose for a moment waiting for it to pass. Effects from the core. Most monsters wouldn't dare to venture into this room without major safety equipment, however Gaster didn't bother... There were certain health risks associated with long term exposure, of course, but He might have exaggerated the risk slightly, in order to control who was likely to come to this portion of the laboratory. For the most part, he was able to keep the majority of his work secret and secure through heavy locks and secret doors, but at this stage of the project he needed full access to particular amenities only available on the upper floor of the lab. It was inconvenient to say the least.

Gaster sighed, knowing that he hadn't made an appearance in the main laboratory before his staff in days. If he didn't check in on them soon, they might start to question what, precisely, he was doing. Gaster didn't want to answer that question; not yet, at least. All anyone had to know was that he was working for the good of monster kind. Still, he was exhausted, even with the hours of sleep he'd gotten the night before. He'd had the strangest dreams, not nightmares, exactly, but unsettling nonetheless, and didn't particularly feel like he could force himself the patience to deal with people.

He had a reputation, at this point, for having a short temper. It was one he resented. When he was a younger man, his staff had worshiped him as the kind of PI every researcher wanted; Kind, patient, and just. Honestly the reason it bothered him now was because he didn't know what had happened. It wasn't _his_ fault that their questions weren't worth his time. He was a very busy man... He had been for years. Many long, lonely years, sitting alone save for his experiments and various assistants. No wonder he'd let Subject S get under his skin. If only he'd done a better job of maintaining his relationships maybe his recent string of failures would never have happened. He would've have let the bo... The subject get to him.

That was why he knew he had to go upstairs and talk with people. Interact, say nice things to them about their work, which, compared to his own looked like a science fair volcano. Even people like him needed a social life, didn't they?

He didn't want one. But there was nothing to do here right now, not until the latest project had matured more. That meant several months of waiting where he could go back to his old job, where he wasn't even needed anymore because people were so used to him not being around. All he was to most of them was a signature, a faceless scribble that signed the paperwork to get them the gold to do their research. It was probably for the best, he reflected, glancing at the recently forming dents in his palms. Much of his team would work better not knowing him. But, if he didn't have anything else to do...

Gaster's gaze settled on a lone machine sitting near the core, cutting off his train of thought. That was _hers_ wasn't it? The failure's... She had been so promising, too. It was a shame, what had happened to her, leaving all her work unfinished like that.

Gaster smiled. She'd always taken very detailed lab notes, hadn't she? Surely he could pick up where she _left off_. He'd be doing her a favor, and if he was working on this, then, well... Maybe he was to busy to check on the rest of his team.

\-----

Grillby startled when the phone rang. He was awake, but had been indulging in some light reading while still in bed. He didn't even need a nightlight; his own illumination was sufficient for him to see the pages. Pushing himself up, he jaunted to the kitchen, answering just before the fourth ring.

"Good mornin'!" Came a joyful voice from the receiver when he answered, "How's this fair day treatin' you, Grillby?"

"Morning, Capri. I'm doing quite well. Yourself?"

"Oh, I'm just as happy as a Moldsmal in Waterfall." Capri gave a twittering giggle, "Now, I sure am sorry to call you this early, but I remembered you get around this time from when I worked with you in Grillby's - gosh I miss that place, I'll have to come and visit sometime - and that you were hoping to get a fair amount of heads up before the doctor came over to your house. Unfortunately this is kinda short notice, actually, but I was talking to Bede late last night, after she got back from a particularly difficult case, an' she was thinking she could drop by today during her lunch. I filled her out on everything you told me, and she's thinking that the boys will probably need multiple visits before everything was ship shape. So, even if you an' her just talk this time around and she doesn't so much as see the kids, she still thought it'd be a good use of her time. What do you say?"

"That sounds perfect, actually, Capri. Thank you." Grillby said, "What time will the doctor be here?"

"She normally takes lunch anywhere between noon and two-thirty. Sorry I can't be more specific then that, but you know how it is when you're dealing with sick people, particularly children... Never know quite how long it's going to take to get 'em back on their feet."

"Indeed. I wasn't planning on doing much today, anyway, with the kids as nervous as they are... It's be good to let them settle in a little more before I go back to work."

"On that note, Bede called Ambrose about the case and they've decided to cut you a break, price wise, considerin' the situation. They were thinkin' that they'd wholesale you, if you don't mind takin' last minute, work-in appointments like this one... Particularly, I think, if you were so kind as to prepare somethin' for 'em to eat when those appointments happened to align with meal time?"

Grillby laughed, "That sounds like Ambrose... I'm guessing all these appointments will just happen to be around meal time?"

"Would not surprise me one bit!"

"Seriously, though." Grillby said, still smiling, "That's awful generous of them, they don't have to do that... I mean, I'm well enough off that I'm not even thinking about these days I'm taking off, Capri."

"Now you just quiet yourself, there," Capri said, "We at the clinic are doing mighty well ourselves right now. It's one of the tragedies of medical work - we're only most appreciated when things go wrong. So, I don't think the Doctors are hurtin' themselves at all doing this for you."

"Alright," Grillby said, then, "Wouldn't happen to be running a charity right now, would you?"

"We always accept donations to provide medical care for the disadvantaged," Capri said, "I take it you would like to donate?"

"Well, it seems wrong not to pass down the generosity at least a little..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is our first non chronological chapter, it forced me to go back and look at the timelines I already have established. Because I made it anyway, I figured you guys might want to look at it.  
> Grillby was created by a boss monster during the war.  
> At some point that boss monster tried to sever the bonds between them.  
> At one point, Grillby had a wife, Tisiphone, and three children, Aidan and Kai who were dizygotic twins, and a daughter named Etney. They are all dead now.  
> Between 15-20 years ago, Grillby was contacted by two separate families concerning his distant relatives, Fuku Fire and Heats Flamesman.  
> Sans and Papyrus escaped the lab "months ago".  
> On Day 1 of the story, Grillby sees the boys for the first time and reports their presence to the Royal Guard Dogs. We later learn that around this same time was when Gaster reduced core production back to it's normal amount. It is unknown how long he has been increasing production for his "latest project".  
> Night 1: Grillby leaves supplies for the children. Papyrus falls unconscious, forcing the boys to actually stay in town. Sans has a memory of one of Gaster's "Good Days".  
> Day 2: The boys sleep in town, and the dogs announce that they need to leave in order to safety check the cave system due to the increased snow. Around this time, the core has cooled back to it's normal temperature.  
> Night 2: Sans grows scared of what Grillby might want in return for what he's been leaving the brothers.  
> Day 3: This is a quiet day.  
> Night 3: Sans waits for Grillby.  
> Day 4: Sans and Grillby have a confrontation. Sans collapses afterwards, Grillby goes to save dogs and gets submerged in water.  
> Night 4: Sans has a nightmare and Papyrus explores on his own. The extra snow from the core finally slows.  
> Day 5: Grillby heals.  
> Night 5: Sans and Papyrus have the confrontation "It's always a trap". Papyrus leaves the footprints Grillby follows to find them.  
> Day 6: Papyrus blasts Grillby. Grillby's fine, because fire, ya'll. Grillby takes the boys to his house.  
> Night 6: Grillby is visited by the dogs and interacts with Papyrus. Sans wakes up. Children's are treated for the first time. Grillby doesn't get any sleep.  
> ??? 6: Sometime during day or night 6, Gaster is reviewing old documents of Sans and Papyrus while making sure his latest project had stabilized. It is shown that the scientist is "cracking" as time progresses when he views an old photograph of himself.  
> Day 7: Grillby cleans out his sons' room. Papyrus wakes up with a nightmare, and he, Grillby, and Sans start a meal together. The Dogs come, triggering Sans into having a fit and revealing his self-destructive behavior. Grillby claims to know what's happening.   
> Night 7: Grillby and the dogs document as much of the boy's physical state as possible, and the boys take a bath before going to bed in the room Grillby has half-prepared for them.


	13. Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus and Sans run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY DOES THE NUMBER OF PLANNED CHAPTERS KEEP INCREASING?  
> Earlier I was like, "Oh, this will happen next chapter! The boys and Grillby are going to do this, this, and this and it'll be great!" but once I start writing the this' multiply by, like, 30, and what was supposed to be one chapter is now, like, 5... *sigh*  
> Also, I had a bunch of binge-readers join the party as of the last two chapters... That's really cool. Thank all of you for your continued support! It really does mean a lot to me that you've enjoyed this, and I hope that as the story continued you will continue to be entertained by it. :-)

Papyrus stood in frozen silence as the top of the floor. Had he just heard right? He'd been awake for a while, unable to sleep after waking from another dream when he'd heard a sharp chiming noise and went to investigate. Not a bad dream this time, just different. He and Sans had been in the laboratory again, but their room had been painted pale blue and had a tall bed and a few toys in it, and when The Scientist came in he didn't feel afraid, but sad that it meant his brother was leaving for a while and would probably be to tired when he came back and wouldn't want to play anymore. His heart was pounding when he woke up, just remembering The Scientist, though his face in the dream had less cracks and his voice had been softer. He didn't wake Sans up. If he had, Sans would've asked him what the dream was about and...

Sans never reacted well when he mentioned The Scientist. Not that he should, Papyrus thought, but just like everything else it was another way Papyrus couldn't communicate. He hated being forced into silence.

The Monster shifted below him and Papyrus felt stuck. Unable to move. He was terrified The Monster would see him but couldn't force himself to get away from the banister at the top of the stairs. The Doctor was coming. Gaster, The Scientist, was coming here. They had to leave. They had to go, and run as far as they could again, back into the cold and the harsh wind that had made them both so sick. Papyrus didn't care. His brother had been a little better after they'd first escaped, and Papyrus knew he would get better again so long as they stayed away from The Scientist, because before they left Sans' eyes were glowing nearly every time he came back to the room, and after the lights went out and The Scientist was gone, he still wouldn't say anything, and Papyrus would be left alone in the dark with nothing but the rhythmic thudding of San's head against the wall and the occasional twisted giggle that escaped him.

Papyrus himself didn't want to go back either. The tests had been getting harder near the end, The Scientist growing more demanding of them, and he'd had to use him magic a lot... Sometimes he didn't even mind that Sans wasn't able to talk with him, he was so eager for rest by the end of the day.

The monster moved from sight, and it wasn't until Papyrus finally shifted that he realized he had been holding his breath, and he inhaled sharply, panting for a moment as he crept back into the bedroom. He had pulled the curtain back after he woke up, and could see that it was still dark out now. Sans was sleeping, looking close to peaceful for the first time Papyrus could remember since they'd come to the land of snow, and Papyrus hated waking him. But he knew that they had to leave. If they didn't, they'd never get peace again.

\-----

"SANS? SANS, WAKE UP!" Papyrus was shaking him, and Sans fought through a haze to awaken. He felt an unusual type of drowsiness, fueled more by comfort then an actual need to sleep. He started to stretch in order to banish the lethargy from his bones, but Papyrus hit him to get his attention.

"Oof," he said, rolling over.

"SANS, WE HAVE TO GO." Sans noticed the quiet urgency in Papyrus' voice.

"what happened papyrus?"

"WE HAVE TO GO. NOW. THE DOCTOR IS COMING."

Sans bolted upright, his drowsiness forgotten. He focused on Papyrus, making sure he heard right. He could see it in his brother's face, and immediately the darkness of the room lessened as a blue glow filled it, mixing with his brothers orange to produce a gradient of the two colors.

"no, no, no, no, no," He repeated, his hands flying to his head for a moment, wincing as his fingertips brushed against the fresh wounds from last night. "how do you know?"

"I HEARD THE MONSTER TALKING. HE SAID THE DOCTOR WOULD COME."

Sans pushed himself off the bed, stumbling a bit as the magic rushed from his head. He was about to fall when Papyrus captured him with a frown, and Sans followed his gaze to his own unsteady legs.

"i'm fine, pap... i'm a little dizzy from getting up. it's already passing, see?" Sans straightened to support himself, "it's just like in the lab, after the scientist makes you sleep."

"WE'RE GOING TO BE OKAY." Papyrus said, but Sans couldn't help but think of the last time Papyrus had woken him up. Something bad always happens. "WE'RE GOING TO BE OKAY, RIGHT SANS?"

"you bet." He said. He couldn't give up. Papyrus was counting on him. Papyrus had always counted on him.

"where is the monster now?"

"THE FOOD ROOM, I THINK."

"okay, let's go."

The brothers went down the stairs together and quickly went to the door, the clicking of their foot fall drown out by the frying of eggs. When they reached the door, Sans paused, and motioned for his brother to wait before carefully dashing the hearth and grabbing the blue hoodie and his brother's blanket. They were dry, and smelled clean in foreign way, like the flower's they'd admired in Waterfall. The Monster must have cleaned them... It didn't mater. Sans went back to his brother, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders before pulling the hoodie on over his head. It was far to large for him, and since he didn't have time to properly roll up the sleeves they fell far below his fingertips. Finally, the two skeletons opened the door.

Papyrus whimpered when the cold air hit him, but Sans shoved him briskly through the door, following and closing it behind them. Immediately, Sans started trudging forward, ignoring his own discomfort to make sure Papyrus kept following behind him. Before they were so much as out of sight of The Monster's building, however, Sans was shivering violently and struggling to continue onward. After just a couple nights in the fire monster's (unusually) warm house, both boys had lost their resistance to the cold, and the gentle breeze of early morning drove through their bones like a knife.

"we need to move f-faster," Sans said, his teeth chattering as he spoke, "they'll catch us if we don't."

With a quick orange light and a few gentle pops, Papyrus was suddenly beside him, nudging his elbow with his muzzle. He was nearly the same height as Sans in blaster form, and though Sans couldn't ride Papyrus the same way Papyrus could him, the quadrupedal form allowed the younger sibling enough steadiness and speed to greatly increase their rate of travel. Sans looked in amazement as his brother before trying to spark the same kind of magic himself, but didn't even try to actually transform. Just a minor stirring of his magic told him he wouldn't have enough, and he wondered how Papyrus had recovered so quickly. In a moment, he was tying the blanket tightly to the blaster before him, doing his best to shield Papyrus' now awkward frame from the cold. Once he was done, the two were off again.

\-----

Grillby frowned at the eggs he'd just plated for the children. One plate was scrambled, the other over easy. He'd done it without thinking, in the same pan so that the so called "dippy egg" now had a stray clump of scrambled in the white. This was the way he used to cook for his family, because Tisi and Kai liked to dip their toast in the egg yolks while he and Aidan preferred not to eat any food that was very liquid - eggs weren't much of a problem, really, since their proteins solidified at such low temperatures, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. He sighed regretfully, but then thought to himself that it actually worked to his advantage, since he didn't know which form the boys preferred anyway.

It had been several hours since the phone call from Capri, but still early enough that it would be a few hours before the Doctor came, around 10:00 in the morning. His own dirty dish from this morning's breakfast, and Grillby was now more then halfway through his book which he was rapidly loosing interest in. It had started off well, but then the author killed off his favorite character in a stupid, pointless fashion and he was struggling to remain invested in the story now. He'd debated letting the kids sleep so long after he quit reading, but knew that letting them rest was probably the best thing he could do for them. The only reason he was waking them now was to give them sometime to brace themselves for another visitor.

He didn't think he'd be having Doctor Bede look at them today, rather planning on talking to her mostly, and maybe try to coax the kids into the same room as her of their own free will, but it would still be wise to warn them. He hoped that if Sans had a little bit of warning, maybe he'd be able to avoid another fit. The episode last night had Grillby worried, but he thought he knew what the boy was going through. Those eyes and that self destructive, withdrawn behavior told him everything he needed to know. He'd gone through it himself, sort of, though his symptoms had been below a diagnostic level... Or at least the symptoms he'd admitted to having had been. Many monsters of the war hadn't been so lucky, however. Maybe he could actually help Sans through this, if the situation was as he thought it was. He'd mention it to Bede when they talked later, see what her advice was.

He'd walked up the stairs now, plates of food in hand when he found an empty bed before him. His first reaction was one of confusion, before he crouched to the floor, placing one of the plates awkwardly on the floor as he peered beneath the bed. It wasn't like there were many places for them to hide in the bare room, but he checked the closet quickly, before rushing into the office.

"Sans?" He said, "Papyrus?"

Would the boys even answer if they were hiding from him? He shook his head, peering again into the other rooms he passed on his way to the stairwell. Casting a suspicious glance at the trap door to the attic, he dismissed it, figuring the children would be to short to reach it anyway. Why had he even considered it? He moved quickly down the stairs, flames shifting with the motion before he glanced around the living room, leaving the plates abandoned on the counter separating it and the kitchen. The children were nowhere in sight as he searched everywhere - The couches, the chairs, the tables, closets and bathrooms, even the den and his own bedroom. He was panicking now as he picked up the phone.

Doggo picked up on the first ring, and Grillby reported the information. The guard dog said he'd be there in a moment, right after he called Dogaressa to take his post and relayed that the children were missing. While he waited, Grillby continued to search, checking and rechecking rooms he already knew the children weren't in. He'd just realized the hoodie and the blanket were gone when Doggo simply opened the door without knocking, saying brusquely that there were tracks outside the door. Grillby was out in an instant, the elemental running with Doggo beside him at they followed the trail.

\-----

Sans' shivers had passed into numbness once again. It wasn't a pleasant sensation for a skeleton to be so cold, but many monsters could tolerate temperatures much lower or much higher then a human could because their physiology didn't involve nearly as much water or other troublesome components. Skeletons were no exception, though it made their bones brittle and more fragile. The magic keeping them together still functioned perfectly well, so long as they didn't get so cold that their joints began to freeze, causing an imbalance of magic rendering them unconscious and, without treatment, fallen. He and Papyrus had been walking for hours, but neither of them wanted to stop, though in the distance they could see a wall rising to meet them. It was still very far away, however, and maybe there was a passageway they could travel through... Suddenly, there was a moist slap as his brother beside him stepped into something moist and gelatinous, and after a moment Sans felt his soul wrench as a battle was initiated.

" _SANS?_ " Papyrus growled questioningly, uncertain what to do as three brainless forms revealed themselves.

The monsters attacked, enraged by the damage that had been done, unintentionally, to one of their party. Sans dodged their blind, meandering spore-like attack deftly, summoning bones in front of him to protect himself when he know he wouldn't be able to dodge. He startled when he heard Papyrus let loose a high pitched call beside him, struck by one of the bullets, and realized that his brother had nearly completely exhausted himself shifting again and could barely defend himself. Calling up a wall of bones to protect Papyrus, he was distracted as a single bullet floated towards him, barely clipping him...

The noise was unforgettable as the damage reverberated directly to his soul, and then Sans was falling.

\-----

Doggo was panting by the time they found the children, yet he and Grillby managed to run a little faster as they realized the boys were under attack. Papyrus was in blaster form, crouched over Sans' limp form, a few small bones shielding him from an onslaught of attacks from Molsmals, whimpering when the occasional bullet slipped past his defenses and his him directly. In moments, Grillby was sending a steady stream of flame above the moist monsters, driving them off with his fire's drying heat as Doggo began to check the boys. Soon, Grillby was next to him, pulling Papyrus back from the other boy to get a better look. The younger child was crying, yanking against his hold as he tried to check on Sans, even biting the elemental before he shifted with a sudden flash of orange energy. Grillby could hear the bones grinding against each other painfully as the child slowly changed forms in his hands, screaming at him.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH HIM-"

The men ignored the child as they focused on the grim scene before them, and Doggo gasped in horror as he realized the same thing Grillby already had.

"Doggo, take Papyrus home now."

"He's fallen, Grillby, you can't-"

"No! No, he's... He's falling." Emotion crackled in Grillby's voice as he pushed Papyrus towards the dog, "Don't you _know the difference_?"

"Grillby... You can't change what's happened."

"Trust me and _go_ " Grillby snapped, scooping the falling child up as he did so. "Just... Go. I'll... Come home later."

"But-" Doggo started, but Grillby was already moving, leaving him alone with a wailing child struggling in his arms.

"Papyrus..." Doggo tried, but it was no use. The child was beyond reason and Doggo didn't blame him. Luckily, the boy hits were frail and didn't damage him. Eventually, the child tired himself out.

"I DON'T-T-T-T-" He said, between gasps, "I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK."

"Go back?" Doggo said, a little shell shocked. A kid, a fucking kid had died on his watch. That wasn't supposed to happen. Thing like this _weren't_ supposed to happen.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK TO THE DOCTOR."

Doggo just kept trudging through the snow.

"I WANT MY BROTHER." Said the blubbering voice, growing to a high pitched whine, "I WANT SANS."

Doggo repositioned the child so that he was hugging the boy, "Shhh..."

Papyrus fell silent with unnatural speed, but Doggo couldn't register it. He patted the boys back and continued to shush him, and at some point the boy started hugging him back, burying his face into the dogs soft fur. Doggo could feel the wet feeling of tears soak into his shoulder, causing the cold to cut through that much sharper. He didn't react. He just kept walking, a child crying into his fur.

When he got to Grillby's house, he called in the news in a solemn voice. Somehow Dogaressa's reaction seemed to... big to him. She hadn't even seen the boy, not one. She certainly hadn't seen him after had fallen, the way his small form lay crumpled in the snow like an abandoned puppet. How was she able to react like that when he just felt numb?

With nowhere else to go, Doggo settled onto one of Grillby's couches and continued to try to sooth Papyrus. Eventually the child fell asleep on him, and Doggo felt some form of relief as he allowed himself just to stare at the wall, a tear rolling down his own long, narrow snout. He started when there was a knock on the door, opening it to watch the smiling Doctor's face fall into an expression of concern, and then resolved sadness, maintaining her professionalism. As a doctor, she'd seen many of the fallen.

This was Doggo's first time seeing someone fall since he was the youngest of the guards, fresh from training eager to please until he'd seen... That. He couldn't stomach it, and questioned if he was right for the Royal Guard when, eventually, the job was going to lead him to see it again. It didn't matter if it was an attack or an accident, another cave in, eventually there would be another person he couldn't protect. The thought petrified him.

Meanwhile, the doctor called her coworker. Then she manipulated the remaining child gently, trying not to wake him, but of course she did. She said she wasn't going to hurt him, but needed to see if he was okay, and he just let her, remaining as limp and nonreactive as he had been when he was unconscious. She said he was a good patient. She thanked him for his cooperation. She told Doggo that he had magical exhaustion. She said he had soul damage, too. She said a lot of things. No one was listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always used to call sunny-side up eggs or over easy/medium eggs "dippy eggs" when I was a kid... Because that's what you do with them, you know? Dip your toast in the runny yolk? When I went over to my grandma's house with my other cousins to spend the night, normally we were expected to eat whatever she made (it was always good), but sometimes she'd make our eggs however we liked them. However, that meant that pretty regularly there would be hunks of scrambled eggs in the dippy eggs. :-)
> 
> Did any of you actually say "As happy as a Moldsmal in Waterfall" form last chapter out loud? It's fun.
> 
> *Is pointedly ignoring how this chapter just ended*
> 
> THE DOCTOR OF COMING IS COMING. THANKS, TYPOS.


	14. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby confronts his creator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up at the first scene of Chapter 12.
> 
> Another thing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEf8BbUPk1w
> 
> Final Note: Next chapter is not wanting to be written right now. It might be a week or so before another chapter is posted.

"What happened?" The boss monster asked.

"He stepped into some Moldsmal." Their elemental explained, looking down at the child again, picking up their other hand to cradle the child's head.

"That... Does not make sense..." The boss monster said.

"Toriel, please," The elemental replied, "We don't have time. _He_ doesn't have time. Can you... Can you heal him?"

"I-" Toriel started, a note of something distant and removed in her voice.

"He's a _child_ , Toriel..." Grillby's voice broke, "...Please..."

There was a pause as the boss monster stared into the distance. It lasted only a second or two, but for Grillby it stretched on forever as he let himself trail off. Grovelling wouldn't change her mind, and the queen had no reason to help him. But he knew that she had always been a just leader, even before she became queen. Since the child had never done anything wrong, surely she would save him. Right? Grillby's eyes were still cast down as he continued to cradled the limp form. Snow kept sizzling against the elemental's body, occasionally producing a painful popping noise, and his flames flickered in the shadows, casting a strange glow to Toriel's face as her lost expression faded, replaced by one of determination

"Bring him into the ruins."

"Thank you."

The boss monster frowned as she walked down the long hallway. "I might not be able to save him."

"But you're trying."

She said nothing as she knelt on the ground, far enough from the door that the floor was no longer frigid. They were near her home, but she was unwilling to take the elemental to it. The tenderness with which Inferno handled the child surprised Toriel as he laid the child gently on the floor before her. Immediately, she started working to heal his soul. It was so close to shattering she was amazed he hadn't fallen already, and as she worked her eyes wandered over the boy's physical body.

"What has happened to this child?" She asked, her voice shocked.

"I really don't know." The elemental answered, "They're currently central to an ongoing investigation. They've... They've obviously been abused."

"They?"

"He has a brother."

"And why are _you_ the one caring for them?"

The elemental stiffened, sensing her tone of disapproval, and said, "I'm the one who found them."

Toriel was silent, so he relayed the story, finishing it with, "They've been living with me for two days now, while we try to figure out who the hell did this to them... They tried to run away this morning, I think. That's how this happened. Like I said, they don't seem to understand why I'm trying to help them.'

"I see." Toriel said. By this time she had finished healing the child as much as was possible for her and had been listening in silence... Something was _wrong_ with the child, she could sense it. Even as she'd poured more and more of her magic into him, his soul remained delicate, only a little ways from shattering. It was unnatural, but somehow she suspected he had always been this way.

"He is stable."

"Thank you," The elemental said, relief flooding his voice as he leaned forward to pick the child up. He froze, awkwardly, when Toriel's arm swung down between them. He looked up to see Toriel's eyes narrowed at him, judging him, and felt suddenly like some form of insect under her powerful gaze. When she opened her mouth to speak, he braced himself, expecting the worst.

"You are damaged, too."

"Yes," He managed to choke out, her eyes still boring into him "From helping the dogs. I'll be fine after I rest a bit more."

"I," She said, pausing, as though reconsidering the offer even as she made it, "I could heal you."

"I thought you hated me." Grillby whispered after a moment. 

"No," Toriel said, "Not _hate_. But even after the Elemental Right's Movement it was hard to see you as anything more then what you were made as."

"A weapon."

"Yes."

"That's why you never let me near them..."

"Near who?"

"Your children, Asriel and-"

The look on Toriel's face caused the elemental to cut off.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, "I get it, you know. I had a family for a while. I would've done anything to protect them."

"What happened?"

The elemental took a deep breath. He knew about her past, she deserved to know his.

"Tisi died of old age in the arms of another man, and Etney, my daughter, started pulling crazier and crazier stunts after her husband died until one day she... She fell."

"I'm sorry." Toriel said, softly.

"That's not the worst of it," The elemental said, a pained tone coloring his words as he forced himself onward. "I... You know I actually ended up becoming a chef after you left? I own a little place in Snowdin, now. Grillby's. Tisiphone hated the cold, but she put up with it just for me and my business. When she got pregnant the first time we were both over the moon, you know?"

Grillby was rambling at this point, but he couldn't help it. He just felt so helpless when Sans was falling, like it was happening _all over again_. His voice kept crackling with inflections, the words falling in disorganized clumps, a narrative only in the loosest sense of the word. Toriel didn't interrupt him, just listened, making sense of it.

"Not with just one child, but two beautiful boys we named Aidan and Kai. It was only a couple years later when Tisi got pregnant again, and we got our little baby girl. Between Etney and Aidan we had to fireproof everything, even though Kai was the actual hell-raiser of the bunch, always very active and strong willed like his mother."

"I'm not sure how I ended up loving her as much as I did, honestly. Tisi always said it was love at first sight, but I don't even remember how we met. I never figured out if it was a joke or if she honestly just saw me one day and decided I was the one for her, partially because I was too scared to ask. She was that kind of woman. Wicked, smart, both individually and combined, with this ridiculous laugh, and... And she was the love of my life. Everything was perfect for me. I even felt, sometimes, like I had moved on from the war. Actually put that behind me, you know?"

"Then one day the boys took a field trip to Waterfall and... And Aidan fell into the water." Grillby's voice had grown solemn, and he paused for a long moment on this sentence. "Maybe-"

Grillby's flames started crackling, not just his voice, and he clenched his hands unintentionally, "Maybe he was pushed, but it doesn't matter because he was so small... He... He had to have died instantly."

"But that didn't keep Kai from diving in after him, trying to save him, did it? Oh, no, and the water moves so fucking _fast_ there. He was a strong swimmer, just like his mother, but the water... Was just... The teacher said it all happened in an instant. In one _fucking_ instant. How could you tell someone who just lost-"

He sat silently for a while, breathing, trying to keep himself from wasting energy in another rage. Toriel said nothing, sensing the elemental wasn't quite done. One of his hands moved to cover his face as he regained some composure, his anger melting into greif, and leaving the elemental as a picture of regret.

"Me and Tisi just couldn't handle it. She left me, found another real monster to move on with. Not only did I have to watch her die, I had to do it from a distance, without anyway to help because she didn't want _my_ help anymore. When Etney died it... It hurt just the same, but it was easier to accept, somehow, compared to the boys. At least she'd grown up. I didn't have to pack up her belongs, she carried them out herself over the course of years. Etney had her own children, my grandchildren who I loved more then life itself, her own spouse, her own... Life. The boys were just starting out, they were-"

He jumped when Toriels hand touched his shoulder, ripped suddenly out of his own chaotic memories.

"Children," She finishes, "They were children."

"Yeah." Grillby said, then, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started ranting like that."

"It is quiet alright, my child." Toriel said, "May I heal you before you go?"

Grillby looked to Sans, "Couldn't you use that magic for him?"

"I cannot." Toriel said, "I have already healed his soul as much as I can, though he will always be... Delicate. I do not know why."

"I see."

"I cannot heal his physical body either, not without keeping him here for many days. Even then I am not sure how much good I would do. Many of those scars will be permanent... He is stable now, and can be brought to a real doctor without risk. If he is part of an investigation, it would be best for them to document what has happened anyway." Toriel said. She had confronted enough of her past already, and didn't want to hear anymore of the underground. "Your core, however, is a different matter. Since I cast you, I can heal you quiet easily, and it would only take a moment. If you intend to care for this child as well as his brother, then I must insist you allow me to."

"I... Thank you." Was all Grillby said, submitting himself to the boss monster as she used her magic to manipulate his flames so that she could contact his core directly.

He felt abruptly lightheaded as she cooled his core enough to touch, a sensation not quite painful for the elemental but disconcerting, as under any other condition his core cooling like that would mean his imminent death. As the healing magic began he felt a sudden wave of peace wash over him, smothering any remnants of sorrow and guilt from his mind. Grillby didn't want to move, his shoulders sagging as he relaxed, his eyes closing for a moment as he grew still and silent. He felt a minor sense of loss as Toriel pulled away from him, but opening his eyes again felt like waking from a long sleep, and he found himself feeling refreshed. His flames flared suddenly as he shivered once, reheating his core to its normal temperature.

The goat monster offered him a small smile, which he returned, pleased to find that his motor control had been restored. Reveling in his repaired state, he looked down to his hands, happy to once again see the fine impressions of fingernails in his being. Such fine details like these flickered in and out of existence with the most basic movement of his flame, but when he was younger, he would spend hours trying to force them to appear, only to have them destabilize as soon as he lost focus. It had been irritating to loose them again for so long, like his entire life had been dragged backwards.

\-----

Sans woke to the sound of crunching snow and ice, finding himself firmly yet comfortably wrapped in The Monster's arms. He blinked a bit, disoriented and hazy, before he asked, "Where's Papyrus?"

"Back home," came a smooth and soothing response. The Monster's voice was different now, clearer, unlike the airy hiss of flame he was used to hearing, but very warm. "How are you feeling?"

Sans was quiet. He was unable quite to place how he felt. Eventually, he just said, "sleepy."

"We'll be home soon. You can go back to sleep until then."

Sans thought about this. Consciously, he didn't like the idea, but when tried to sort out the details of what happened he gave up, relying on the strange gut feeling of security that lingered within him from a healing he would never remember. With that decided, he shifted slightly in The Monsters grip, angling his face towards The Monster's body to shield it from the cold. Feeling warm and safe, the sway of Grillby's movements lulling him, Sans let out a little sigh of contentment and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading all your comments on last chapter, there was a little sadistic part of me who wanted to wait to and/or never update this again. I'm pretty sure that makes me a bad person. Anyway, worry not! The baby bones are alright...
> 
> Though when we get towards the end of the fic you might want to start bracing yourselves. Trust me, you'll know why when we get there. And. Yeah. It'll be fun, guys! :-D
> 
> Don't worry, though! I promise that the proper end of the fic will be about as happy as you can get in undertale.


	15. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctors came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> Afraid this isn't the best chapter. I really struggled with it, and just decided to go with it after a lot of trial and error. Anyway, I do have a question for you all... Should I use a modified font for puns to offset them?  
> As always, thanks for reading. You guys are great, and I really appreciate your support! Especially those of you who have mentioned the possibility of making fan art... Even if it never gets done, the fact that you even considered doing something like that for my stupid little fic really warms my heart.

Doggo was resting when the door creaked open, his muzzle settled on the child's shoulder as the skeleton clung to him, even in his shallow sleep. Acknowledging Grillby's return with a whine and an ear flick, he gripped Papyrus a little tighter, not daring to look at the elemental. Doggo was scared of what he might see on Grillby's black and white clothing.

"Doctor Bede should have gotten here by now." The elemental said, and Doggo was shocked by his casual, calm tone.

"She did," The words a little rough until he cleared his throat and swallowed, "She's in the kitchen, filling out her reports."

"Ah," Grillby said, "Good."

Doggo sensed the elemental move to the kitchen counter. He dared to look at the man, now, judgmental of his cheerful tone. Grillby was leaning over the counter, gesturing to get the doctor's attention. In the other room, Doggo heard the scrape of wood across tile as Bede moved her chair and Grillby turned.

"Is he-?" Doggo gasped, spotting the skeleton in Grillby's arms.

"He's going to be fine."

"But he was fallen...?" Doggo said, his disbelief leaking into his tones even as he started wagging his tail. Papyrus shifted in the dog's arms, and Doggo looked down to see nothing, the child still and quiet in his arms, undoubtedly exhausted by his emotional trauma. The guard dog looked up again, his ears flicking as he implored the fire monster to explain.

"Falling," Grillby corrected a second time, "There is a certain grace period allowed, depending on the circumstance. It's hard to explain completely, I don't quite understand myself. The simplified version I know is that when a monster falls from old age, it is normally because it's body is already breaking down and can no longer support it's soul, and when a monster dies in battle, its soul is weakened to the point where it can no longer support the body. That means that if the body is strong enough to retain its form without a constant feed of magic, then sometimes there is a period of time when their soul can be repaired before the body breaks down. This is usually only the case for very strong monsters, such as boss monsters, or ones who have a partially physical body like skeletons do."

"That's why humans are so dangerous," Interjected a cool, soft voice. "When a human attacks a monster, both the physical body and the soul of that monster are harmed at the same time, dusting them almost instantly." 

Doggo looked past the elemental and to the doctor behind him, frowning. That was a little casually morbid, wasn't it? Even for a fox monster, Doctor Bede had a very slight build, and her voice an odd "cooing" noise within it. With her pale sandy fur and huge, dark, intelligent eyes, this voice only added to her general phantom-like impression. Noticing his look, her ears twitched, sparkling with an assortment of delicate earring in each one.

"Sorry," She said, with a charming smile directed towards him. Doggo could see the corner of her canines extending below her upper lip, and decided she was cute, in an ethereal sort of way. He'd been to preoccupied to notice earlier, but her facial features and inordinately fluffy tail gave her an oddly huggable appearance, even clad as she was in a white lab coat and holding a clipboard. He wondered why he'd never seen her before, but dismissed the thought. The royal guard dogs had always had their check-ups with Doctor Ambrose, the alpha enjoying the casual exchange of jokes while her pack was accessed.

"I think I just had flashbacks to my college days," Doctor Bede continued, though as she spoke she shifted her attention to Grillby. "I'm pretty sure that I learned more waiting for Capri's shift at Grilby's to end then I did from my professors. How is it, exactly, that a simple bartender knows so much?"

"I certainly wouldn't know," Grillby said, and Dogggo detected a bit of a humoring inflection voice in his tone. Did the two know each other? Rather, did Grillby know everyone?

"So, this is Sans, then?"

"Yes." Grillby said.

"Should I-?" Bede asked, gesturing to the child.

"Actually, I think it might be best if I take him to a private room to wake him. The last time we had visitors unannounced he... Didn't react well."

"I understand. Honestly, so long as he's safe, I don't mind at all if he's not up to any interaction." The doctor responded, "Before you go, though, can I take his MASTR? It shouldn't wake him, and it would allow me to make sure his condition won't deteriorate. Or at least, not before I'm likely to see him again."

"That sounds like a very good idea." Grillby said.

"Alright," Bede responded, getting her bag, "I'll need access to either his chest or upper back, please, Grillby."

As Grillby manipulated his hold on the child to give the doctor the ingress she requested, Doggo watched Doctor Bede selected a moderately sized, cream-colored device from her supplies. It had slightly smaller dimensions then a notebook, though thicker, and gave the general impression of a very expensive, oddly shaped, camera. Holding it above the child's chest, approximately where his soul would reside, she turned on the display and modified a few settings. After a moment, she preemptively pinned her ears back before compressing a button on the machine's side and holding very, very still for a few seconds. The machine emitted a high pitched whine, and Doggo pressed his ears tight against his head. She _worked_ with that thing? Sans shifted slightly, but did not wake, and the doctor moved away.

"We'll have to do this test again later," The doctor said, shutting the machine off. "Normally the MASTR hardware initiates a faux-battle mode in the soul in order to get a complete reading, but for now this should be sufficient to give me and Milo something to analyze."

"Milo?" Grillby asked.

"You haven't heard Ambrose's first name before?" Doctor Bede asked, the faintest betrayal of surprise in her voice.

"I don't think I have, actually."

"And here I thought the two of you were old friends."

"We are, but I've only seen him under professional circumstances, except for maybe once or twice."

"Are you telling me you haven't met his daughter?"

"Um, once, I think, when she was just a baby." Grillby said, a little taken aback.

"If that's the case then I'll have to make sure that we all have diner at Grillby's at some point. Me, Capri, Ambrose and his family, the whole crew." Bede said, "It'll be a little like old times."

Grillby smiled, "I'd really like that, once I get back to work. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The elemental moved to the back of the living room, disappearing through a horizontal sliding door, leaving a very nervous Doggo and the doctor alone.

\-----

For simplicity's sake, Grillby carried Sans' into his bedroom, since that way he didn't have to navigate and stairs. Laying the child on the bed, he messaged his aching arms before he closed the door gently, leaving it barely un-latched. Without the light from the living area, the room was rather gloomy, so Grillby opened the window curtains and blinds. Casting one last long glance around the room, he settled on the bed himself with a long sigh. A knot of tension had formed in his chest, and he wished very suddenly that he had more experience with this sort of situation. Settling a hand on the child's shoulder, he jousted him very slightly.

"Sans? We're home now."

The child woke slowly, actually rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He looked around the room, tensing and then relaxing, as if at first disoriented but then placing himself. Finally, he looked to Grillby. It was the first time the kid had made eye contact with him without an expression of obvious distress, and lasted only a moment. Before any words were spoken, Sans' eyes dropped the the blankets beneath him, and he shifted, pulling his legs up between him and Grillby, knees tucking tight beneath his chin.

"Sans?" Grillby said, hoping to coax the child into looking up again. He didn't.

"yeah?" The word was spoken with incertitude.

"Are you..." Grillby trailed off, "How are you feeling now?"

Sans shrugged in response. Grillby could see he was growing more nervous by the moment, his arms wrapping around his knees and hands embracing so that he could fondle those damn metal plates. He wasn't trying to pry them up yet, but Grillby could see the thought forming as the child dragged his fingertips along the edges of them, almost in an exploratory way.

"Your brother is in the other room with Doggo." Grillby said, "Would you like me ask them to come in?"

"um," Sans replied, brow line creasing with some internal debate, "yes..."

"Okay." Grillby said, nodding, "I'll ask them in after just a moment. Papyrus is very worried about you. I was wondering if we could talk about that for a moment?"

There was a faint ting as Sans' thumb ricocheted off the metal before he spoke, "okay."

"Do you know why he might be so concerned?"

The boy shook his head.

"Do... Do you remember what happened?" Grillby added, gently. When Sans' eyes started to glow and the elemental reacted firmly, trying to get the boy's attention.

"Sans, look at me."

The boy looked up abruptly, the cyan color meeting Grillby's eyes with a tearful look. Grillby noticed the boy was trembling now, and felt an instant guilt settle over him. He reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, and didn't pull back when the boy flinched away, just gently laid his hand down. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the thick fabric of the hoodie, feeling awkward as he desperately tried to do something comforting without further panicking the child. Grillby felt the need for physical contact as he spoke the next few words, as though somehow it would convey his sincerity or make his words tangible to the child.

"Please try to calm down," Grillby said, "You are safe. Papyrus is safe, alright? I _promise_ you, I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you either..."

Sans' eyes were focused on the elemental's hand upon his shoulder, and Grillby pulled his hand away gently, apologizing quietly as he did so. What was he thinking?

"I'll go get Papyrus."

\-----

Once the elemental's back was turned, Sans scrambled back on the bed until his back hit the wall. He was back in the house. He was trapped. How did he get trapped? Where was Papyrus? The Monster said he was getting Papyrus, but The Monster couldn't be trusted. He just said they were safe, but The Doctor was coming. He remembered that, finally, that The Doctor was coming for them. 

Sans felt out of control, even of himself. When he woke up, he'd felt so... Calm. Why would he feel calm? What had happened? _Something_ had happened. Even The Monster had admitted it. He looked at the light flowing through the window. It was late. So much time had passed since he could remember. He covered his face with his hands. What happened? Papyrus woke him up, and they left, and then... Cold...

Sans flinched when the door opened again and Grillby and a dog stepped through. The dog was holding Papyrus, and Sans fought his instinct to recoil to reach out towards his brother, his arm shaking. Why wasn't Papyrus moving? The dog shook him a little, but the skeleton just shook his head a little, burrowing his brow deeper into the dog's neck.

"...pap..." Sans forced out, watching as his brother froze, then turned slowly to face him.

He looked terrible, like he'd been crying for years, and instantly started to struggle out of the dog's grasp. The dog moved to put him on the bed, and within moments Papyrus was keening again, his arms wrapping around Sans as he cried. Sans shushed him, but the child didn't quiet, didn't let Sans move him to check him for injuries. When he tried, Papyrus gripped him tighter and shook his head.

"N-N-NO..." Papyrus whimpered, his voice coming in a high pitched whine.

"are you hurt?" Sans said, quietly. He didn't want the monsters to hear.

"NO." Papyrus said, "SANS, YOU-"

"shhh, pap... quiet." Sans looked at the monsters through the corner of his eye. They seemed tense, but kept their distance. Maybe.

Sans worked on calming his brother, and eventually the younger boy calmed down enough that Sans could look at him. Physically, nothing new was wrong with Papyrus, but Sans could tell his soul was damaged and his magic nearly nonexistent. His brother looked so _tired_ , but Sans knew he couldn't let him sleep. He glanced at the monsters again before pulling his brother in for another hug.

\-----

"pap, is the doctor here yet?" Sans whispered into Papyrus' ear as he was pulled close.

"NO," Papyrus said, stutter coming through sobs and making him nearly incomprehensible, "HE'S COMING. HE'S-"

"shh, I know..." Sans said, and Papyrus felt his brother pull him even closer, arms wrapping around him so tightly Papyrus nearly squirmed away from the hold. "just hold on tight to me, alright pap? hold on."

Feeling his brother's magic well beneath him, Papyrus suddenly understood. He nodded, readjusting how he was holding onto Sans and gripping his brother tightly. There was a long pause, as Sans tensed, waiting for the right moment before Sans' arms flew off of Papyrus' back, releasing a wave of magic. Papyrus heard two loud thuds as the monsters behind him were sent flying across the room, the dog releasing a startled, painful yelp as he struck the wall. Sans stood and shifted Papyrus around so he was hanging piggy-back style before leaped from the bed, releasing another pulse of energy as he shifted to blaster form and took off through the doorway.

They were nearly to the outside door when suddenly a green ring formed around them, and Sans' running came to an abrupt halt when he ran into it. He whimpered, pacing around and hitting it, as Papyrus looked around confused. Then the brothers noticed a fox monster standing near the kitchen, her black eyes focused on them intently.

"What are you-" she started to ask, before Papyrus once again felt magic welling within his brother. 

"NO!" Papyrus shouted, but Sans wasn't listening.

Sans fixed his gaze at the woman and prepared to attack. Her face fell, as though she could sense what was about to happen. Just as Sans opened his jaws, a sudden barrage of grey bullets appeared behind her, sent forward instantly with a simple flick of her hand. Sans lost focus, the magic of his attack released in a sudden blue flash that blinded Papyrus for a moment as the older brother desperately tried to protect him. Papyrus shrieked, his eyes flashing orange as the bullets rushed towards their small circle. They couldn't run, they couldn't dodge... Then they both stood, dumbfounded, as the attacks phased right through them harmlessly.

"What the _hell_ ," The fox monster said, her voice strained and breathless. "What were you guys _thinking_? You could... You might..."

The fox monster fell silent in front of them, panting, her black eyes wide, and Papyrus had the realization that she was as terrified as he was. Meanwhile, Sans was whining, backing up until his rump hit the back of his cage. Even then, his claws kept scraping against the floor as he pressed himself and Papyrus as far away from her as possible. Sans didn't seem to notice as The Monster came from behind them, his voice harsh and heated when he spoke, causing Sans to jump and turn around, no longer certain who to cower from. Papyrus fell from his brother's back, and the child tried to get up only to have Sans press him down again, the quadruped standing over his brother to shield him.

"Aynabat, let them go!"

"Let them _go_? Grillby- They-" The fox monster seemed to struggle to speak.

"Release-" Grillby started, only to have the fox monster cut him off.

"They just attacked me! Attacked you!"

"Ayna, they're just scared, and you're not-"

"Exactly! They _are_ scared!" Ayna said, "How about we actually try to explain why they shouldn't be? You know, before they hurt someone?"

"They're not going to listen when you have then trapped like this!"

"Because letting them just run out the door worked out so well for you last time, You're going to get them killed!"

Grillby was silent, his flames flickering a little lower. Behind him, Doggo was stumbling out of the bedroom behind him, halting when he saw the situation. The dog was panting in pain at first, but forced himself to snap his mouth shut as he joined the others. After a moment, Ayna calmed, her spine straightening as she closed her eyes, took a long breath, and forced her ears to rotate forward. Papyrus didn't understand what was happening, but everyone was very quiet, even Sans as his head pivoted, desperately trying to keep all the monsters in him line of sight.

"Grillby," Aynabat said, her voice suddenly regretful, "I didn't mean... I know you're doing the best you can. It's just that Sans is... I'm sorry."

Just as Grillby opened his mouth to respond, someone tapped "A Shave and a Haircut" on the living room door. Before a moment had passed, a chubby otter monster opened the door and waddled in. He glanced around, frowned for just a moment as he knocked the snow off of his boots, and closed the door behind him. He then proceeded to shuffle past the group of monsters, skirting around the green circle before he settled himself very happily on the couch. He straightened his clothing and fidgeted, before cocking his head to the side at the scene before him. He grinned, and gave a little wave.

"Well," the newcomer said, "This looks like _otter_ madness. Can someone fill me in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Can we talk about Doggo for a moment?](http://www.deviantart.com/art/Grillby-s-565149691) I'm officially head cannoning him as a husky, a breed that I am very familiar with... Why? Reasons, clearly.
> 
> Next chapter I'll be re-posting an updated timeline here, probably with some OC information as well. That means the notes section will be longer then the freaking chapter. ;3
> 
> Doctor Bede is based off of the Fennec Fox, while Ambrose is based off of the Giant Otter. "Aynabat Bede", by the way, roughly means "Sweet Moon Doctor" or "Sweet Moon Priest", depending. Meanwhile, "Milo Ambrose" would translate to "generous in immortality" or "Immortal Soldier". Maybe. The sites I use for names aren't always the most accurate.


	16. Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctors discuss the children. Grillby talks with Doggo. The children are assessed and given treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys.  
> The timeline is too long for me to post in the notes. What do I dooooo...  
> *weeps*  
> Also, my beta reader is temporarily unavailable, so there might be a fair amount more errors right now.
> 
> I'm so glad people like reading this, because you guys are all so freaking amazing, but today I especially need to point out [THIS](http://randomfangirl99999.tumblr.com/post/140165543850/this-is-fanart-for-one-of-my-favorite-fanfics), created by Animegirl966 because it so utterly made my goddamn day!
> 
> There are a few notes at the end of the chapter that I consider semi-important.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

After no one replied, Doctor Ambrose leaned back in the chair and sighed. It was too damn tense in the room, and he didn't care for it. He shifted his gaze from the children to his coworker, wondering if he should judge her for having the kids trapped like that, before turning to Grillby and Doggo. All he could see were various forms of fear, pain, and panic, and he didn't know what worried him more. 

The children worried him due to their physical state, sure, but emotionally kids were always a little nervous around him at first, and it looked like a lot had happened to them in the past few minutes... But for Doctor Bede to be using her magic like this meant something was spectacularly wrong. He'd heard her raise her voice from outside, too, yelling at someone, which was shocking considering how he had always seen her act previously. Sarcastic and a little inappropriately preoccupied with death? Yeah, that's why the two got along so well, they both had weird enough humor to tolerate each other - But to hear her scream at someone was unprecedented. Even his _old flame_ looked defeated, Grillby's body looked tense while his shoulders and arms fell slack at his sides, his face cast downward, staring at the children.

These were people Ambrose had known for decades, yet sitting here he felt like they were both strangers. Though he didn't dare to add to the tension by letting it show, he felt a swirl of unease rise in his gut at the thought that he might not be able to rely on them to act rationally. He managed to keep himself from jumping, just barely, when Doggo spoke unexpectedly.

"Grillby managed to get Sans to a healer in time to save his life," the guard dog said, and Ambrose noticed how he was clutching his arm as he spoke, "But after he woke up here, the boys panicked and attacked us, trying to run away again."

"I see," Doctor Ambrose said, keeping his voice carefully conversational, "Why's that?"

"Why did they panic? We don't-" Doggo paused and grimaced, "-Or at least I don't know."

"Well, clearly we _otter_ ask them, then."

"Ambrose," Grillby said, and the doctor was actually relieved at the irritation blatant in the elemental's tone, "Is this really the time?"

"No need to get so _heated_ , Grillby! I don't know _water_ getting so upset about, I was just _o-fish-ally_ giving my opinion."

"He means the puns, Milo," Bede said, "And you're perfectly aware of that."

"Are you saying that I _otter_ be ashamed of myself, or that you don't give a _fox_ about my sense of humor? I mean, I didn't think I had _burned_ him that badly." Ambrose said, and Bede glared at him. Ambrose smiled at her good-naturedly. He got that look a lot.

"No?" Doctor Ambrose asked. He would ease up on the puns now that everyone was talking, he decided, and turned his sights back to the children, "Well, anyway, which one of you is Papyrus and which one is Sans?"

"Sans is the one-"

"No, no, nope!" Ambrose interrupted with sudden volume. The point was to get the kids to talk, not necessarily to gain any information. "I did not ask you, my dear, I'm asking the boys themselves."

There was a very long pause as the adults looked at him, before shifting their attention to the children. Ambrose noticed that both of the children were staring at him, but the blue eyed quadruped had a glazed-over, lost look, as if he had shut down. Orange eyes, meanwhile, had a scrunched up expression, which Ambrose was pleased to think that it was more on the side of confusion then fear. Eventually, the orange eyed child took a deep, shaking breath.

"I-I-I-I'M PAP-PAPYRUS... US..." He said, and Ambrose smiled at him, charmed. The doctor had a soft spot for speech impediments and was actually a little bummed that his own child never suffered from any.

"Ah, lovely to meet you!" The otter monster said, seemingly unaffected by the context of the situation, "Now, can I ask why you want out of here so badly?"

Papyrus was silent for a long time and looked around the room. His eyes lingered particularly on Doctor Bede and on Grillby, as though he was waiting for them to do something. The aggression had dissolved from the room, leaving them all awkwardly shifting as they waited for the child's response. If Ambrose wasn't waiting himself, he would've told all of them to take a seat and make themselves at home, even though this wasn't his home.

"T-T-THE..." Papyrus started, trailing off as Sans whined above him.

"Yes, very good! The!" The otter monster said, sincerely elated that things were going so well considering his initial impression or the room. "How enlightening! What else?"

Papyrus looked at Ambrose and frowned. The child's expression of bewilderment slid back to distress, and he started crying, reaching up for Sans to comfort him. His brother didn't react at first, Papyrus' hands colliding with his hard bones without making any impression, until finally there was a flicker of recognition in Sans' body language. He barely moved at first, but eventually allowed Papyrus to sit upright, then curled around his brother protectively, then pressing his muzzle against his brother’s shoulder, nuzzling him.

"Oh, now..." Ambrose said, leaning forward. For the first time, the doctor looked like there was something worrisome about what was happening around him, "I didn't mean to-"

"T-THE DOCTOR IS COMING," Papyrus spat out, voice high-pitched and whiny, leaving Ambrose baffled.

"Oh?"

"They're terrified of a figure they call "The Doctor"," Grillby explained, "They were abused, probably by "The Doctor". They have surgical scars, Ambrose, and Sans has hand plates screwed into the bone itself. That's why I wanted to talk to you and Bede before you actually met the children. I was hoping I could explain what I know and show you some pictures the guard dogs and I took for their case file…"

“Basically try to prevent exactly this from happening,” Doctor Bede interjected, a quiet sense of shame in her voice.

“Yes.” The elemental responded.

"Ah! Well, that makes perfect sense, then, doesn't it?" Ambrose said conclusively, "Ayna, you can let the kids go now."

"But they could-" She said before Ambrose interrupted her.

"Nah. Problem is solved. They'll be fine."

"What?" Doctor Bede said, "I... How about you look at Sans' MASTR, first?"

"What's concerning about it?"

Doctor Bede paused, looking from the boys, to Grillby, to Doggo, and finally back to Ambrose.

"Confidentiality?" She asked.

"I need to know because I'm also one of their doctors, Grillby needs to know because he's taking care of them, Papyrus is his brother, and Doggo's part of the royal guard.” Ambrose justified, before giving her a mocking look and adding, “You worry too much about that stuff anyway."

Bede twitched her ears in irritation, but spoke anyway, "Sans' health point value is only 1."

"Oh." Ambrose said, his voice abruptly serious, "Really? That's... Something. Please show me, not that I don't believe you, just..."

"No, I understand," Bede said, as she went to retrieve the readings, "It's virtually unheard of. I only took a superficial reading, so it might not be accurate, but even assuming he has quadruple this value, it would still take barely any soul damage for him to be seriously injured. Additionally, when you look here you can see his soul is generally unbalanced. Papyrus' is too, but to a lesser degree. Here, see for yourself."

Ambrose took them from her and read them carefully. What he saw on the page was horrifying, the figures outlining something that barely looked like a monster’s soul at all. The patience values were above normal, their font color-coded the same shade of cyan as Sans’ eyes, and his justice was listed in pale yellow, but everything else was terrifying. A grey font was used to list the qualities the boy was short in, his reading for bravery by far the worst. Doctor Ambrose gave a low whistle at it, unable to muster to mind any way to undercut the severity of the situation.

"No wonder these kids are biting at the bit to run off,” He admitted, “Who would do this to a soul?"

"Who _could_ , Milo?" Bede said, turning a page, "Some of these readings aren’t possible… Look at this SASS. I know I probably over reacted, using my magic on them, but _shit_ -” 

“No, I don't blame you, dear." Doctor Ambrose said, his voice a little vacant as he looked over the rest of the report.

Doctor Bede made hesitant eye contact with Grillby, “After seeing this I thought I was dust when the boys attacked me, or that they would be dust if they escaped."

The Bartender sighed, then gave a nod just as Ambrose turned his attention back to the boys.

"So, Papyrus, you're trying to avoid "The Doctor", right?” Ambrose said, “Why do you think they’ll come here?"

Papyrus glanced sidelong at Grillby, whose flames flickered as he made the connection.

"You were listening when I talked to Capri."

"I thought as much." Doctor Ambrose said, "Papyrus, do you have any other reason to want to leave here?"

The child didn't answer, still crouched close to his brother, both pairs of eyes glowing eerily. Ambrose decided it was time he ignored that and stopped pressing for answers, more motivated to get to actually healing the children now that he'd seen their MASTR. With enough time, love, and care, maybe their souls could be restored to a point of balance, but before that happened their physical bodies needed to heal. At least he could help with that part, even if he couldn't do the rest. He looked at Grillby thoughtfully for a moment. He'd have to have a chat with the elemental, but first down to business.

"Okay, then, kiddos," Doctor Ambrose said. "There's been a bit of a miscommunication here. Grillby wasn't calling "The Doctor", and he would never, ever do that, would you, Grillz?"

"No," Grillby said, "I wouldn't."

"There, now. See? The Doctor is _not_ coming, do you understand?"

He tried to look Papyrus in the eyes as he said this, but the boy cast his gaze to the floor. He waited for a response, and eventually got a little head nod that didn't seem entirely convinced.

"You heard him talking to our secretary," the doctor continued, struggling because he was used to being frank and honest with children, but wanted to choose his words carefully for once. "See, me and... And Aynabat here are both doctors. That means we have something called an MD, and that we heal people for a living, do you understand? What you overheard was Grillby calling us to come over here and heal you, because you're both... Hurt. We're here to help you. My name is Doctor Milo Ambrose, and this _foxy_ lady here is my coworker, Doctor Aynabat Bede. You can call us Milo and Ayna, though, okay?"

Doctor Ambrose looked at his coworker, hoping she wouldn't mind the children using her first name. He just thought it was the best idea if they really were abused by someone who called themselves a doctor. He wasn't surprised to see her nod in approval, but it still made him feel a little better that he hadn't underestimated her. He turned to Grillby.

"I think that considering the situation, and since me and Ayna are both here, that we should do a primary examination. It should only take about an hour or so, and that way we can get get the children some _food_ and _rest_ , alright?"

The elemental nodded in understanding, but waited for the exam to start before leaving the room. Ambrose respected him for that. With a nod to him partner, Bede raised her hand slowly and dropped the wall of magic as Ambrose stood, grunting a little.

"Get a change of clothes for them, too, Grillz. What they're wearing is soaked." The otter cracked his neck as he started to get his magic flowing, before taking a step towards the children, "Alright, let's get to work then."

Before he could move another step, there was a quick flash of blue, and Sans was standing between the doctor and Papyrus. As a skeleton, the child was so much _smaller_ than Ambrose expected him to be, which was both a blessing and a curse. If Sans was as young as he looked, that meant more time for healing than Ambrose had expected, but at the same time-

The child said something that Ambrose missed, despite straining to hear. He was amazed by how limp the child was, considering how fierce he seemed earlier. He was looking down, the only sign of will in his body the fact that his little hands were balled into tight fists. Abrose caught the sharp shine of metal among the white bone looking at them. Then, Ambrose looked to Bede, hoping she had heard the child. She shook her head.

"Sans?" The fox monster said, her voice finally the ghost whisper Ambrose was used to, "Can you repeat what you just said, please? We couldn't hear you."

"don't punish... my brother."

"Punish?"

"it... was... my idea... to attack you." Sans said, his voice wavering to near silence voice as spoke, "so don't punish papyrus. just me..."

The child's brow seemed to crease in thought before he said the final word, a detail that, for whatever reason, would stay with Ambrose years later. The speech was chilling enough without it, but the fact that Sans so seriously thought about what he said before uttering it haunted the doctor.

"...please..."

Grillby's flames started to crackle as the rest of the adults looked at the child. Doggo shifted uncomfortably, while Bede's ears swiveled backwards.

"Sans, we're not going to-" The fox monster started, but Ambrose quickly interrupted her.

"Okay, Sans. Come here." Ambrose said over her. Aynabat looked at him sharply, and Ambrose could nearly feel Grillby's eyes burning into his back. He smiled reassuringly, then looked to the boy who forced himself forward. "The clothes, please, Grillby."

When Sans was in arms reach, Doctor Ambrose crouched to pick him up and set him on the couch. Unzipping the blue hoodie, he had Sans shrug it off as the doctor took a long look at the child's arms and hands, not attempting to hide his frown. He got out his stethoscope and pressed it to the child's chest, listening intently to the pulsation of the child's soul and the flow of his magic. The kid's breathing was harsh, crackling in almost the same way Grillby's flames did with every inhale and exhale.

"Capri said we'd need antibiotics..." Ambrose muttered before instructing Sans to take a deep breath. The child did so immediately, like he'd done this a million times before. He acted this way through the entire exam, opening his mouth when the doctor reached for a tongue depressor (which he apparently didn't need) and tilting his head without instruction when Ambrose grabbed his otoscope. Near the end of it, Sans started trembling, a fact that Ambrose tried very hard to ignore. The doctor grabbed the clothing Gillby had brought for the children, not pajamas like the two had on before, but a pair of his own tee shirts. When Sans put one on, it fell to his knees and hung on him loosely, almost like a hospital gown. With that taken care of, the doctor boosted him up on the couch again, and the boy sat stiffly, his eyes wavering as he picked at a wound in his femur.

"Okay. _Pun_ ishment time. You ready?" Ambrose didn't wait for a response before continuing, "I hope so, because as a pediatrician, I'm a doctor of _little patients_."

Sans cringed, and Doctor Ambrose frowned. Poor choice of joke, he realized, and went with something a little more blatant. "Do you what it takes to make skeleton laugh?"

The child's face slowly went neutral, his face tensing into a look of thoughtfulness. After a moment, Ambrose said, "You need to tickle his funny bone."

Sans looked at the doctor from the corner of his eyes, and Ambrose noticed how angry the child looked now. Not Bede angry, though, a blank, frustrated variety of anger only worn by those who truly do not understand what they're trying to do, but know that they desperately need to do it. Ambrose was not impressed.

"Jeez, kiddo... I know I'm a little _otter_ then most, but you don't have to look at me that way."

When the kid didn't seem to get that one, Ambrose finally gave up. With a sigh, he leaned over and looked through his bag. Then, since he couldn't find what he was looking for, he started riffling through Bede's. Finding it, he straightened and looked at Sans, who was now clearly bracing himself.

"Sans?"

Reluctantly, blue eyes shifted to make eye contact.

"Why am I punishing you again?" Doctor Ambrose, wanting to hear the child's justification.

"i was aggressive and tried to escape." Sans said.

Ambrose sighed. " _Tibia_ honest, kid, I was hoping you'd have a sense of _humorous_. _Ulna_ -mately, I think it was a poorly conceived notion on my part. You're serious about needing to be punished, and with what I know about you I don't think you're going to relax until that happens. So, here's the deal-"

Ambrose help up a lollipop and a sticker, "-Normally, good kids like you get both of these. But, since you're being punished, I want you to choose just one as a reward for being a good patient, okay?"

Ambrose could see the boy biting back questions but waited and watched, wanting to see if the child would deviate from the norm any further. Sans looked like he was making a life or death decision. Eventually, he reached out his hand like the rewards were going to bite him and took the sticker from Ambrose's hand. He kept looking at Ambrose, as if searching for approval or repercussion.

"Huh, I would've taken the lollipop." The doctor said, tearing off the wrapper and popping the sweet in his mouth. "Now Sans, did anything from the exam hurt?"

The skeleton shook his head.

"Good. Then Doc- Then Aynabat is going to give the same exam to your brother, and at the end, if he's a good boy like you were, he's going to get both of the treats, since I promised not to punish him."

The child didn't respond, his eyes fixed on Papyrus as his exam began.

\-----

Grillby had disappeared into the kitchen once he was assured that nothing would go wrong with the children. He started a fairly simple meal, before he called Doggo aside to talk with him.

"How's your arm?"

"Been better." The guard replied, "I'll ask the docs about it later."

Grillby nodded. "Can you... Do you think the royal guard can spare someone for a few nights? I'm scared about the kids running away again."

"I'd considered that myself," Doggo said, "In the very least you'll have me sniffing around every chance I get. I'm sure Dogaressa will set something up."

"Good, good. Thanks, Doggo." The elemental said quietly.

"Hey, Grillby?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think... Do you think they'll be alright?"

\-----

Papyrus acted similarly to Sans during the exam, apprehensive and shaky. Unlike his brother, however, he actually smiled when it was done, and he was given the simple pair of treats. As the doctors drew away, he scooted closer to Sans, who had shredded his sticker while nervously fidgeting, and was now tinging away at his hand plate.

Sans didn't understand. Why weren't they _actually_ punishing him? It scared him, and he expected something terrible to happen at any minute. He still wanted to run away, but there were too many people, and he wasn't going to be able to escape, not with Papyrus... He didn't have a choice now, all he could do was be quiet and wait for an opening. All he could do was obey.

When Papyrus leaned against him, he barely paid attention until the younger skeleton hugged him trough the loose fabric of the shirt. He looked down to see Papyrus looking at him with tired white pinpricks, and drew him closer, stroking the younger child's head in an affectionate manner, as much to calm himself as to calm his brother. He looked up at the doctors again. They were talking, and had now called the dog over.

"We're going to heal you and your brother a little bit today," the fox monster said when the trio approached them. "To show you that it's safe, we're going to to heal Doggo first, okay?"

Sans just nodded dumbly, and watched as the doctor pressed her hand against the arm Doggo kept gripping, and at this point had swelled quite badly. He winced at first, then gave a little exaggerated sigh of relief as a green glow started in the doctors palms. In just a moment, the doctor let go and Doggo thanked them before moving to the other room.

"I'm going to heal Papyrus while Milo works on you, okay, Sans?"

He didn't respond. He didn't have a choice.

He flinched when the doctor touched him, immediately thinking of a hundred things the man could do to hurt him. Trying to ignore himself, Sans focused on Papyrus. The fox monster was handling him gently, but Sans hated to see his brother look so vulnerable in her paws... Pap was already barely holding on to consciousness, what if she-? Suddenly a green glow encased his brother, and Sans tensed, ready to spring to his aid. Instead, he watched the fear drained from Papyrus' expression as he leaned into the monster's hold, and Sans balled his fists when warmth started spreading through his bones. 

Despite the pleasant sensation, he resisted relaxing, having realized why he had woken up feeling so damn calm. It didn't work, though, not entirely. Not after one of the otter's hands ran across his skull and paused over the deep gash in his forehead. There was an awkward sensation for a moment, almost like a rubber band being stretched over his skull, but when the doctor moved on, the throbbing pain that had plagued Sans for weeks was suddenly gone. By the time Ambrose was done, Sans allowed the man lay him on the couch next to his brother, who was snoring gently. The older boy was awake, and almost instantly pulled both hands to his chest to run his fingers over his hand plates, wincing as he shifted a screw that was slowly coming loose. Robbed of his negative emotions, yet unable to allow himself to sink into the calm sensation he viewed only as a trap, Sans was left with only an aching, empty feeling in him mind and soul.

He was warm. He could feel the gentle ebbs and flows of his brother's breathing and magic against his back as Papyrus dozed. No one else was touching him. These were physical sensations he focused on. He was terrified that is he moved, he would loose them, so he held very still, trying not to think. The inside of his head was chaos, and thinking only made it worse. When The Monster walked in with two plates of food and approached them, Sans forced himself upright and woke his brother. He focused on eating, and took the usual medicine without comment. He didn't have a choice. If he remembered that and didn't think, he'd be okay.

Then Grillby carried them up the stairs and to the bedroom, where Papyrus pulled the curtains back while the Monster was still in the room and Sans panicked, for a moment. He watched as The Monster simply took the curtains from his brother's grasp and used a little hook on the wall to secure them open and calmed a little as Papyrus stared out the window. His brother fell asleep after only a moment, and Sans crawled closer to him, hugging him and pressing his skull against his brother's rib cage, needing the constant reassurance that Papyrus was there. Outside, there wasn't any snow falling, but the trees shifted hauntingly in the distance. Sans' mind grew hazier as he watched the movement until he fell asleep.

\-----

Grillby exited the room after he thought the children had fallen asleep. Doggo had just gotten off the phone, and gave Grillby a quick thumbs up about the conversation. The two joined the doctors in the kitchen.

"Well, I should be heading out." Doggo said, stretching his freshly healed arm, before thanking the doctors again.

"Wait," Grillby said, "It's late. Stay and have dinner with us... You haven't eaten since you came over, and I certainly owe you that much."

Doggo's nose twitched as he considered, breathing in the scents of the meal, before saying, "Sure, thanks."

"No problem."

"It'd be good to have you guard dogs updated on the boy's health, anyway." Doctor Bede added, opening a file as Grillby served them, "Are you familiar with what a MASTR is?"

Doggo shook his head.

"It's an acronym, just like the LV or EXP you're probably used to," she said, "It's spelled the way it sounds, without the "e", and stands for Magic Analysis and Soul Type Reading. It lets me get a pretty good feel for my patient's magical state without being invasive, and it also works with the cores of elementals. Now, you might not know your soul type since you're a normal monster, but it's a ranking of a monster's most prominent soul traits, which can be useful if someone needs a magic transfer. Normally that only happens in elementals whose casters have died and have been gravely injured. Grillby, do you happen to know yours?"

"Yes," He said, offering, "It's integrity sub-patience."

"Good, thank you. Now, depending on the monster, you can have only one soul type, or two, though the readings can fluctuate to a certain extent, and over time a monster's soul type could change." Doctor Bede explained, "Here you can see Sans' soul type, patience sub-justice, and then Papyrus' which is bravery sub-kindness. A little known fact, however, is that each of the seven soul traits, determination, bravery, justice, integrity, kindness, perseverance, and patience also have an opposite trait. If a monster's soul lacks enough of one trait, the opposite will manifest itself. The most common instance of this is determination, which is a virtually unheard of soul type in monsters, and a monster can actually be considered perfectly healthy even if they lack enough determination to out weight it's counterpart. In fact, I only know of one case where a monster has had determination as even a secondary soul type."

"Two," Ambrose corrected.

"Two?"

"Yep! My little Undyne officially takes after her mama as of last checkup!" Ambrose said, a big goofy smile suddenly plastered on his face. Then he caught himself, and started to fiddle with the MASTR machine, "I mean, I already knew it, but... Egh. I thought it was cool... By the way, Doggo, your soul type seems to be bravery."

"Okay," Bede said, moving on, "Anyway, the opposite of determination is doubt. As you can see here, Sans is one case where he actually has enough determination to outweigh his doubt, which is ironic, because if you look down the rest of this..."

"He lacks all the other traits except for his dominant two." Grillby said, looking at the column she was pointing to, "And he could be considered healthy without that much determination."

"Yes. Papyrus is in the same boat, I'm afraid, though his readings are much better overall. His integrity and perseverance are even on the margin, so a slight increase in those would put him into the realm of reason, soul-wise."

"I see." Grillby said, "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I'll get to that, I promise." Bede said, turning the page, "This is an analysis of their battle statistics, which I'm sure you're both familiar with. There's nothing really worrisome on Papyrus' page, in fact it could be argued that he has amazingly good statistics for his age, but if you look here - Sans has ones across the board, except for his SASS, or Sustained Attack and Stability Score which is, comparatively, through the roof. About the only thing the child has going for him is that he has the capacity to preform a ridiculous amount of magic before exhaustion sets in. Well, when he's healthy, that is." 

"To get to the point of all this, for the most part, the boys' physical wounds are surprisingly superficial. Whoever-" Doctor Bede paused in the middle of her speech, "- _What_ ever "The Doctor" is, _it_ wanted them to survive what it was doing. There's evidence for all sorts of trauma here, but all if it was done... Carefully. Very carefully. If it hadn't, then I hardly think Sans would still be alive. However, their souls are a completely different mater. It's going to take years of care and nurturing to get these children to where they can lead a full life, as an imbalanced soul like this is going to cause them constant mental turmoil and, if it were to get any worse for Sans in particular, could lead to him spontaneously falling."

"Which leads me to a question, Grillby," Doctor Ambrose said, "Do you think you can handle that kind of responsibility? If not, I think you need to tell us now, because these kids... They're going to need a stable home if they're going to heal. I don't think anyone is expecting you to take them permanently, but I would recommend a year, at least, before we put them through more stress by moving them around to a different place to live."

"Ambrose, I'll do anything I can to help these children." Grillby said, "But I am worried about taking proper care of them. I don't know anything about healing souls, and-"

"Grillz, as far as I'm concerned, that's a yes. Me and Bede will he here to help you." Ambrose said, folding his hands over themselves, "Besides, we honestly don't have many other options. Do you think anyone in the underground would be ready for something like this? If you're willing, well... I know you've seen a lot, my friend, and I think you might be one of the few monsters who knows how to handle a situation like this."

Beside Doctor Ambrose, Doctor Bede frowned. She looked up, and made brief eye contact with Grillby, before turning back to her food, a little tenser then before.

"All you really have to do," Ambrose continued, "Is treat them like normal kids, more or less, and handle the not-normal situations as they come up. Read them books, play with them, get them to socialize, that sort of thing. Now, I guess we should talk about getting their physical state sorted. Nothing is life threatening, certainly, but that doesn't mean that they aren't in a fair amount of trouble, and it doesn't help that I haven't treated a skeleton in... Ever. The only time I've met one previous to this was way back in med school. Me and Bede are going to have to do a lot of reading to catch up with current literature, and we're also going to have to drop by regularly to keep tweaking the boy's treatments. So, let's start with what we know for sure, shall we?"

"Certainly," Grillby said.

"Well, first of all," Ambrose said, "I'd like to see what you gave Sans earlier."

"It's just cold medicine." Grillby said, handing the bottle over. Ambrose laughed.

"Well, Sans'll be sleeping for a while. This is nighttime stuff, Grillby. Ancient, too... Where in the hell did you get it?"

"I, um... Figured he could use the sleep aid. Just for tonight." The elemental said. He shifted uncomfortably due to the entire conversation, hoping Ambrose didn't press the issue. "I just bought some new daytime cold medicine, but I figured that since it is night out..."

"Yeah, well... I hit him a little hard with my magic, too." Ambrose admitted, "Between us we double dosed on the poor little guy. Guess we both figured he could use the rest."

"Will that hurt him?" Grillby asked, concerned.

"Nah. Kids are tough..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing concerning the content of this chapter... I just want to make it perfectly clear that I do NOT condone the drugging of children. I'm just thinking that if I was in this situation, and I had the choice between two equally helpful methods of treatment, but one just _happened_ to have semi-sedating effects on a child who is keyed up to the point where _he's committing self harm_ , I might be temped to utilize that one over the other.
> 
> I really hope that doesn't make me a horrible human being.
> 
>  **Original Character Information:**  
>  **Doctor Ambrose:** Doctor Milo Ambrose is a very "Punny" man, both with regard to his horrible jokes and stature. He's a short, chunky, older-middle aged otter monster, and is the father of Undyne Ambrose. His wife is captain of the royal guard. Doctor Ambrose is a good man, and probably the best doctor in the underground, but a little eccentric and very disrespectful for the privacy of others. The kind of dude who you might find going through your medicine cabinet after he asked to use your bathroom. He is also completely unruffled by most situations, preferring to make a lame joke about them then anything else. Luckily, this makes him perfect for his job. He doesn't freeze up or act horrified when something bad happens, just acknowledges it and keeps trying to do what he needs to in order to heal and protect his patients. Ambrose is based off of various otter species, including the [Giant Otter](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_otter), [Sea Otter](http://seaotters.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/628x353-otter-cu-yawn.jpg), and [cute otter paws](https://sociorocketnewsen.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/yubi.jpg). His name means "generous in immortality" or "Immortal Soldier".  
>  **Doctor Bede:** "Aynabat Bede" roughly means "Sweet Moon Doctor" or "Sweet Moon Priest", and she is based off of the [Fennec Fox](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fennec_fox), which is both [adorable](http://41.media.tumblr.com/a88d3a29b1bc852d18022df1d4553c9f/tumblr_n5b7uhLTWD1taod9vo1_1280.jpg) and [spooky](http://www.ecohealthypets.com/writable/pet_report_photos/photo/480x/fennec_fox_1.jpg), and you should go google them right now because OMFG so many pictures I love. She is a fairly young for a doctor, very intelligent, but also hosts rather high anxiety. She seems to be slightly morbid, and in addition to being a medical doctor she's also a psychologist, though due to the nature of monsters in the underground hasn't had a lot of experience in the field. Compared to Doctor Ambrose, she is reserved, and far more professional. Since she's a nocturnal monster, she tends only to take special appointments and emergency cases, but has been working more and more during the day due to the recent rise in illnesses in the underground. She's from the same town as Capri, though doesn't have an accent in the same way the bird monster does. The two are best friends, and used to live together when they were going to school. She's known Grillby since this time, claiming she learned more from him that some of her professors.  
>  **Capri:** Out of all the staff of Waterfall Family Medical, Capri is the most competent, though she is constantly underestimated by others. She's an absolute powerhouse, very hardworking and diligent, though as she is crepuscular, she often sleeps during the hours other monsters are active so very few people realize how much she keeps the office running. Occasionally she even takes long naps in the break room of the office during business hours since neither doctor cares, and in fact Aynabat can relate quite well. She's known for her infectiously bubbly personality, heavy accent, and love for talking. Without her, the doctors would be absolutely lost, and possibly half the rest of the underground as well... She's known Doctor Bede for years, and the two are best friends who used to live with each other back in college. She is a [nightjar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nightjar) monster, her body and coloration based primarily on these two photos, [HERE](http://animaliaz-life.com/data_images/gray-nightjar/gray-nightjar2.jpg) and [HERE](http://neotropical.birds.cornell.edu/portal/image/image_gallery?uuid=6793c43d-dade-4fd5-869d-80a7aa8f7b45&groupId=11003&t=1295001728488), but ever since I found the [Pennant-Winged Nightjar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pennant-winged_nightjar) I've been obsessed with them and keep trying to find an excuse to include those funny wing things, even though they're incredibly impractical and only found on male specimens.  
> 


	17. Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why?
> 
> The Doctors walk home. Grillby tries to talk with the kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit week. Sat down and wrote this to try to de-stress. Kinda pointless and short and crappy. But I figured I'd post it anyway.
> 
> I'm trying to edit chapters 5, 10, and 15 to feature timelines. Every chapter that is a multiple of 5 will. That way, there is a standard way to keep track of these things even though I can't just post one big timeline.

Doctor Bede and Doctor Ambrose were walking home in the dark, the snow crunching beneath their feet as they traveled back to Waterfall. Aynabat didn't mind the snow, but she was grateful for the calm, clear weather regardless, because her ears lost heat easily. It was the kind of night that made her think of moonlight. Back in Twilight Town, there had been a hole in the roof in the cavern, and sometimes a sliver of that silver glow would filter down to the monsters below. It was so beautiful, and when she was little, she used to wonder what the moon looked like. Now she imagined it shining down on the pine forests around her, causing the fallen snow to glitter like gemstones, cold and harsh and breathtaking.

"Hey, Milo?" She said, her voice interrupting the peaceful silence of their travel.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" The fox monster twitched her tail, nervous about the question.

"Shoot."

"Sans' bravery value is in the 12th percentile, correct?"

"Yeah, I mean..." Doctor Ambrose frowned again, "If you're feeling generous."

"Then how come he stepped forward for his brother when he thought you were going to punish them?"

She heard Ambrose sigh, before the otter said, "Officially? No idea. I have my own pet theory, though, if you want to hear it."

"Well, you know I'm interested, now," Aynabat said. "I'd love to hear it."

"Heh. Well, as we both very well know, determination is an incredibly rare phenotype in monsters." Ambrose said, "Actually, you might not know that it's been debated since the surface ages if it should even be considered a component of a monster's soul since only 13-27% of monster kind exhibit it at any one time, and it's only a major soul component for about 2 in every 4,500 monsters when it's on the high end of that spectrum. Anyway, I'm pulling a Capri here... Basically, I think that determination can manifest itself as any of the 6 other traits as needed, kind of as an adaptive mechanism."

"You think his determination to protect his brother outweighed his established cowardice." Bede said, "Interesting, but if it were the case, why doesn't determination have a larger manifestation rate? Seems like it would have a much higher frequency in the population if it were that useful."

"I said it was a pet theory," Ambrose said, "Mostly just something I came up with watching my wife and Undyne. Undies is getting so big now, you know? I wonder how old she is compared to the boys..."

\-----

Papyrus was woken by a hot hand on his shoulder at nine in the morning. He didn't feel like getting up, but thought better then to argue with The Monster as he and Sans were carried down the stairs and to the table. There were empty mugs left there, which Grillby swept up after putting the children down and left on the counter as he continued to cook. While Papyrus looked around the room, Sans collapsed and rested his head on the table. Concerned, the younger brother grabbed his hand, fingertip running over the phalanges for attention. Sans moved his head to look at him, blinking sleepily before setting it down on his folded arm again with a dull thump.

Reassured, Papyrus looked around again. There was a lot more to look at in the kitchen now, and packages of various shapes and sizes rested on the counters and atop the refrigerator. Some of them were quite colorful, while others were plain and uninteresting. What caught his attention, however, was a small light brown feather resting on the table that he picked up carefully, inspecting it and running his fingers along the grain. He looked at Grillby, whose back was turned, and dropped it, watching as it drifted gently to the ground. He started when a plate was set before him.

"Breakfast casserole," The Monster said, placing another plate by Sans and shaking him awake again. 

The boys ate in silence, Papyrus devouring his meal while Sans barely picked at it, eventually dozing off again. When he was done, Papyrus took to watching The Monster. He was reading a book, cover different from last time, and his body still except for the occasional page turn. Looking at him, Papyrus found himself mesmerized by the elemental's hair. Most of The Monster's body had clear borders, discernible edges that were smooth and reliable, like skin, save for he occasional stray flame, and glowed like hot coals. The top of the elemental's head, however, flowed and shifted, reactionary to his surroundings he moved, flickering like a common fire. After some time, Grillby looked up and put his book down, looking at Papyrus for a moment before taking their plates to the sink and scooping up the brothers. He carried them to the living room and placed them down on the couch, covering Sans with a stray throw and propping his head on the arm rest, before turning his attention back to Papyrus.

"I think your brother's going to be asleep for a while." He said, "Is there anything you would like to do?"

Papyrus shook his head and hugged his knees. With a sigh, The Monster stood and went into the kitchen. He returned with his book a short time later, settling himself in a chair across the room. He glanced up, every now and then, and whenever he caught Papyrus looking at him he waved at the boy. Papyrus, meanwhile, slide behind his sibling, head resting on Sans' shoulder. Yesterday had been really scary, and he still felt tired. He wanted to rest, a gritty feeling clinging to his eye sockets no mater how many times he tried to blink or rub it away. 

When he opened his eyes again when The Monster put down his book and stood. It felt like he'd only just closed them, but could tell that some time had passed as the monster vanished into the kitchen again, retrieving a few different items. He knelt down on the floor and arranged them carefully, seemingly absorbed with the task as he kept changing his mind and moving things around. When Papyrus moved to scratch his head, The Monster looked up at him and smiled.

"Do you like to draw?" The elemental asked.

"Y..." Papyrus focused on the word, "YES."

"Well, I've got some crayons down here if you want, and another puzzle... Looks like a couple toy cars? Nothing special, but if you'd like to play, you're more then welcome to."

Papyrus shrunk back against the couch, behind his brother. He didn't want anything. The Monster sighed, the went to the hearth, placing a couple logs in it before quickly igniting them with his own magic.

"I noticed you were shivering," he offered at Papyrus' curious look. He sat back down in his chair and started reading, but was glancing up more regularly now, and after just a few minutes of reading the book rested in his lap again. Papyrus hadn't stopped shivering. It had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Papyrus," The elemental asked, "You know I'm not going to hurt you, right?"

The boy was silent and sank further into the couch until he couldn't see The Monster anymore over Sans' form. Eventually, he heard the intermittent sounds of pages flipping. Papyrus listened to the sounds of The Monster reading his book and the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth and nudged himself closer to his brother, before stealing a corner of the blanket for himself.

\-----

Sans woke up in a coughing fit, startled and disoriented by his situation. Before he could place himself, there was a flaming form right next to him, asking if he was alright. Papyrus was beside him, and he was in the living room again, the monster kneeling on the floor beside him. He gave another series of coughs before trying to catch his breath.

"Sans?" The Monster said, placing a hand on his back, "Are you okay? Would you like some water?"

Sans froze under the touch, then nodded wordlessly. The Monster got up and left him, and Sans moved around so he was sitting up better before pulling Papyrus against him with one arm. When The Monster came back and handed him the water, Sans drank it quickly, emptying the glass before handing it back.

"More?"

Sans shook his head.

"Well, I'm glad you're awake. I was beginning to worry about you. I was hoping that we could all talk after you wake up a little, okay? In the mean time, I have a few toys you can play with until you're ready."

Sans looked at his brother. Papyrus looked as exhausted as he had the night before. His face lacked the optimism Sans was used to seeing, as well as any other emotion. In fact, his expression was oddly neutral. Sans himself felt like he could sleep for another decade.

"we are ready now." He said, thinking that maybe, after they finished whatever The Monster wanted, they would be allowed to go back to sleep. Maybe they'd be put in the window room again. He was beginning to like that room becuase the monster never stayed there for very long and he and Papyrus were left alone in it.

"Are you sure?"

"yeah..." Sans said, his voice suddenly uncertain. What did the monster mean, 'are you sure'?

"Okay," Grillby said, and took a deep breath. Maybe the kids were ready, but he certainly wasn't. "How long have you been living outside?"

Sans thought about it, then answered truthfully, "don't know."

"Has it been a long time?"

Sans shrugged.

"More than a week?"

Sans stared at him blankly.

"More than seven days?"

"yes," Sans answered almost instantly.

The Monster looked worried, "You don't ask a lot of questions, do you?"

Was he supposed to answer that?

"You're brother doesn't either, not since the dogs visited. Neither of you talk much at all, really." 

Apparently not.

"I would like it if you talked more. If you asked me questions."

"why?" Sans asked, happy he knew the right response to this one.

"So that I know what you're thinking, and what you want or need, what you're feeling..." The Monster trailed off at the look he was getting, "You know, that sort of stuff. What's wrong?"

"why?"

"Why what?"

"why can't you just ask all that?" Sans said, tone dubious.

Grillby blinked. After a long time, he responded, "Because sometimes I might not ask the right questions."

Sans frowned. This was harder the he originally thought it would be. "why... not?"

"Because-" The Monster sighed. "Because I can't read your mind?"

Sans just stared at him, then looked at Papyrus who looked even more confused.

"Because I want you to be happy?" The Monster said.

"why?"

"I like to make people happy, and I think then you two deserve to be happy..." Now The Monster's voice was strained with uncertainty, and Sans relished it. He'd never been the one asking questions before, and he took vindictive pleasure in making The Monster appear so uncomfortable, even though he knew it was only a matter of time before he was commanded to stop.

"why?"

"Because you two seem to have had a very hard life."

"why?"

"I don't know. Can you tell me?"

"wh-" Sans shut his mouth before completing the question. The Monster answered anyway.

"I want to know."

Sans pulled Papyrus closer to him again for security. There wasn't any way to really feel secure, though. They were cornered, and even if they weren't... Sans eyes started glowing blue.

"You don't have to tell me. Not now. But who ever did this to you deserves to be punished. Do you understand that?"

"why?"

"Because children shouldn't... Because you shouldn't be so afraid. You shouldn't be alone, going through _trash_ and have _so many_..." The Monster was clearly struggling to keep his composure and Sans suddenly felt like he had made a very big mistake antagonizing him. Before he could do anything, Papyrus was speaking loudly, almost yelling at the monster.

"I'M SORRY. SANS IS SORRY. WE DIDN'T MEAN-ean-ean" The younger boy cut off and hunched over, remembering his place, and Sans moved on the couch so that he was more in front of Papyrus, shielding him.

"No, no... Don't be afraid. I'm not angry at you." Grillby said, reaching a hand out to touch each boy's shoulder. Sans pulled away sharply, causing himself to balance incorrectly over Papyrus and start sliding off the couch. The Monster caught him and pushed him gently back into position.

"Can you look at me? Please?" Sans did automatically, but Papyrus shook his head, a faint glow of orange fading in and out around his eye lights. The Monster reached out to the boys again, touching them the same way he had tried before. He held them carefully, by the shoulder, as if they were some precious thing that he might shatter by accident.

"Okay, if you can't look at me, can you listen? I am not angry at you. Okay? It's not your fault. You're both very good boys. You didn't do anything wrong. I am not angry with you. Who I'm angry at is-" The Monster paused, and Sans felt the hand on his shoulder suddenly go rigid as the elemental debated his words, "-The Doctor. The Doctor was bad, not you. I'm not angry at you."

Papyrus was quiet and Sans didn't know what to say. He looked at The Monster, who was frowning, the deep creases in his expression an odd sight, since they didn't shadow like a normal monster's. Grillby's glow prevented it. Sans wanted very badly to ask why, but he didn't dare to. He didn't dare to speak a word when The Doctor had been mentioned. _Why?_ The question remained in his mind, seeded in these silent moments before the spell was broken by awkward movement and defeated voice. The Monster took his hand off of Sans and ran it over his head, down to the back of his neck and rubbed it for a moment, sighing. When he spoke again it was very, very softly. So soft that he sounded a little like Sans.

\-----

Grillby was trying so hard, but he didn't feel like he was doing any good. He was struggling to speak to the children, to make them feel safe... The book Capri brought him said that this was normal, but it didn't make him feel any better. He wanted so desperately for them to be comfortable around him, but there was no way to force the process, especially not when so much had to happen in order for them to recover. He already had two new medications just for Sans, three supplements for both children, a verity of ointments, and a bath soak, yet Sans had struggled to trust him enough to take cough syrup. With a sigh, he rested his arm against the sofa.

"What can I do to make you feel comfortable here?" He asked, not really expecting an answer but waiting several seconds anyway. When he got none, he gave up and stood. Grillby went to his bedroom and returned just a few moments later with a couple more blankets. He set them beside the boys, then went to get the morning dose of medications. He measured them in the kitchen, placing them on a tray before bringing them into the living room. 

Without looking at the children, he spoke again, "Sans, Papyrus, how are you feeling?"

Sans was the first to reply, "i am functional."

Grillby hated the way the boy said that. Part of him told him it was a lost cause, but at the same time he had to try.

"What about emotionally?"

"i'm... tired?"

Grillby smiled faintly. It was something. "Thank you, Sans. What about you, Papyrus?"

"TIRED."

"Okay, thank you. I'm very glad you told me." Grillby said. He felt like a robot, but he was just trying to do what the book told him to. "How about after you guys take your medicine you take another nap? First though..."

He moved the normal medicine towards Sans, who stared at it skeptically.

"What's wrong?" Grillby asked, though he already knew exactly what was wrong.

"it's different," Sans said, voice limp.

"It is."

"why?"

"It's newer, and it's a different flavor..." Grillby debated trailing off there, but decided to continue, "Also, the old kind of cough medicine had an ingredient in it that helped you rest. This kind doesn't have that ingredient."

"why?"

"Because it doesn't need to have that ingredient, it's just good for the night time when sick monster needs to sleep but can't."

"no... why did you change the kind you gave me?"

"Oh," Grillby said. He'd expected the child to have a big, adverse reaction, not just ask him questions calmly like this. "Because if it's not bedtime, the other kind will make you feel groggy all day and that's not good."

Sans was actually squinting at him. Even Papyrus seemed interested, peering over his brother's shoulder timidly. Grillby smiled at them again, then faltered, looking down at the meds again.

"Would you like me to take a dose to prove that its safe again?"

Sans nodded resolutely. Grillby figured, but he'd still hoped to avoid it. He wasn't a fan of the taste, just like any other monster in the underground, but what really got him about cough syrup was it's semi-liquid composition. Feeling it boil down his throat, sizzling, it's texture thickening until it finally burned away was an ironically sickening sensation. Painful, too, at times, though he had gotten considerably better at constructing an esophageal pathway that was capable of handling the strain since his first encounter with liquid consumables. With an ugly noise and another shutter, Grillby swallowed the orange slime and poured another dose to hand to Sans.

The boy drank it, his eyes wide and bright as made a disgusted face before putting the cup back on the tray. Then Grillby went on to explain the other pills, a spark of excitement growing within him. Many of the medications the boys would only be taking for a few days or weeks, and as Grillby went on, he noticed a slight change in the brothers' mannerisms. Somehow he had the boy's full attention without any sign of increased anxiety. Papyrus came in closer to get better look as he gestured to the pills and pointed to the labels, and occasionally Sans would actually glance up at his face before looking at the bottles and tablets again. By the end of his small speech, both boys' eyes were back to their normal white pinpricks, and Grillby finished.

"None of these would hurt me, if you would like for me to take them first, but due to my biology they'd really just burn up in my body without doing any good." He said, "Where as when you take them they're actually going to help you feel better. Particularly the antibiotics, since they're the only real prescription for your illness. The rest is more for general recovery and prevention, to help you heal and keep you from getting sicker. Any questions?"

Sans and Papyrus looked at each other. Papyrus opened his mouth, but Sans made a shushing motion and the sibling closed it. After a moment, Sans asked, "Which ones do I take?"

Grillby motioned to the container with more pills in it and Sans grabbed it, braced himself, and dry-swallowed. Grillby gulped sympathetically, surprised the boy had done that for a number of reasons, and handed him a glass of water. Sans took a few sips, before taking the other container and giving it to Papyrus. Papyrus seemed more hesitant, taking the pills one at a time with little sips of his water in between each one. When he was done, Grillby praised both boys before he took the tray away and unfolded one of the blankets, laying it over the children's laps and telling them to feel free to use the other one before moving back to his chair. They needed room. They needed time. But, as he opened his book, he felt a small sense of victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it interesting that as time progresses, Sans is trusting Grillby a tiny bit more while Papyrus is pulling away a little. I didn't plan to write it that way, but I don't hate how it's turning out.


	18. Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the day passes by, and the boys reach a very important conclusion about Grillby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Let's ease into this next section of the story, shall we? I'm sorry this chapter is about 10,000 times shittier then the rest of my already crap writing, but I'm getting back into the flow of things here.

For a while, the boys drifted in and out of consciousness. At first Sans had tried to stay alert, but as the minutes ticked on, The Monster sitting unobtrusively in the background and Papyrus laying nestled next to him, Sans slowly found himself relaxing. He didn't sleep, but he came close to it, suspended in a kind of twilight between wakefulness and rest with his head set against the back of the couch. When he surfaced from the haze, he looked down at his brother, a sensation of warmth spreading through him. 

At first he internally recoiled from the emotion as though it were a serpent. As of late, any contentment he’d had was either from drugs or magic, and Sans distrusted it. However, as he watched his brother sleep, he realized that for once the feeling was his own. Papyrus was the light of his life, the only thing that kept him sane as The Scientist’s moods grew increasingly darker, good days coming less and less… Not that Papyrus was some weak replacement, Sans would trade every good day The Scientist ever had for his brother.

When the two had finally been allowed to see each other without a barrier between them, Papyrus had reacted with delight to his brother’s actions, mild through they were, and in doing so introduced a consistency previously foreign to Sans. Sure, sometimes Papyrus cried at nothing for a while, and when he did The Scientist’s moods were always worse, but those times were always brief and became less and less frequent as time went by. What didn’t become less frequent were the smiles the baby gave him, and eventually the words. Sans finally had someone to talk to in the night, other than himself and The Echoes off white paint. Plus, there was tremendous comfort in physical contact with another living being. One that you could trust, at least.

Without Papyrus, Sans would’ve always woken up alone after The Scientist took him. He would’ve gone mad talking to The Echos, and he never would’ve escaped. Though, freedom wasn’t as clear cut as he had though it would be.

As soon as they were out of the Laboratory, Sans had frozen, taken aback and terrified of the open expanse. He didn’t know you could have so much nothing. Papyrus had taken him by the hand and dragged him for a few steps before he came to his wits, still nearly recoiling back into the familiar white halls, but then he remembered the dust they’d left behind and how furious The Scientist would be, what he’d threatened to do last time Sans had resisted.

In the underground, the boys had struggled to survive. At first because they were being pursued, and later because they still lived like it. Distrustful and volatile, the boys avoided monsters as much as possible, and when they did interact it was often as Sans pilfered some needed supply. Even so, they never had what they needed, and even worse they didn’t know what that was. In the lab, they hadn’t needed clothes, and on cleaning day, The Scientist would swap whatever stimulus they had to one that they had had the previous cycle, or the one before that. Their food came, their wastes went. The lights came on, the lights went off. The boys didn’t know how to care for themselves at all, and when they had come into Snowdin...

Sans was only now beginning to grasp how close Papyrus had come to death. It made him quake a little to think about, but the fact was as undeniable as how close he himself had come to death. They had gotten too cold, too hungry, and too plain exhausted to continue.  
Sans was happy his brother was safe from immediate threat, if nothing else. He was terrified of what would happen later, but for now the building was warm and the blankets were soft. He felt the kind of lazy building of magic that only came after a nutritious meal, even though he hadn’t eaten much of it, and his brother was sound asleep right next to him, wounds healing.

Sans’ eyes traveled again to the little hand that had been so badly damaged. It was still warped horribly, but less so, healed enough that it didn’t look so painful laying beside the sleeping child’s head. Sans’ own body still ached faintly, but with nothing new, nothing sharp and fresh and unexpected. All the pain he had where things he'd carried with him for a very long time.

Sans ran a hand affectionately over the other boy's shoulder and smiled shakily, uncertain now, more than ever, exactly how he felt. The warmth had changed to a strange aching in his chest that seemed like it was crushing him and a stinging in his eyes. He had no reason for this, yet somehow felt at peace with it even as the weight threatened to force a whimper from him.

Sans closed his eyes again, and focused only on breathing. He listened to the faint background noises of The Monster and the crackle of fire, and eventually the weight eased, leaving only the weariness he was accustomed to. For a few tranquil moments, Sans felt alright.

Then The Monster moved.

Sans jumped, torn from his temporary contentment by the reminder of the inevitable. His eyes flashed for one bright second as his awareness sparked into overdrive, and he looked up to see The Monster stretching, his book abandoned by his side. There was an audible hiss in the air, like a Bunsen burner, and Sans pieced together that The Monster was yawning. Sans had a moment of accomplishment as he processed this. If he yawned... Sans dismissed the thought, remembering the way The Monster had risen from the snow even though his body was malformed and broken, and the power and control with which the man had held him in the kitchen. 

Sans had no choice. He had to remember that.

"Oof. I'm starting to go numb from all this sitting." The Monster said, and Sans clenched his fists as the elemental’s bright gaze settled on him.

"Can I get you anything, Sans? I think I might go do the dishes."

Sans felt a deep discomfort crawl up his spine. He hated this. He didn’t know how to answer this type of question correctly. Worse, sometimes when he thought he did know the answer to one, The Monster would sometimes react like he did not, even though he didn’t come out and say it. How was he supposed to prevent future mistakes if he wasn’t told what the right answer was? How could he placate The Monster? Questions, he reminded himself, The Monster had said he wanted questions.

"what do you mean by ‘do the dishes’?" Sans said, stiffly.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Sans frowned, and tried to speak louder though it hurt his throat, “what do you mean by ‘do the dishes’?”

"Oh! Uh, clean them.” The Monster said with a smile, and after a moment of silence added, “Because they're dirty?"

"why?"

"Because we ate off of them earlier."

Another glorious moment of realization swept over Sans, and he asked more confidently, "why don't you just throw them away?"

"Because I would like to keep them and it would be wasteful just to throw them away." The Monster said, "Are you used to throwing plates away?"

Sans didn’t like the look he was getting, now. He ran a finger over the metal band on his hand. "plates?"

"Dishes."

"oh..." Sans thought about it for a moment, feeling weird about the conversation. He shrugged, mentally comparing the paper implements The Scientist had given them to what The Monster used. He was no longer as certain, and it was weird to talk this much anyway. Somehow his anger kept getting lost in the words, though he thought it was the words that angered him. He wanted to go back to silence. It was more comfortable then this. As soon as the silence regained, however, it was shattered again by The Monster's voice.

"Sans?" The Monster asked again. "It there anything I can get for you?"

Sans stared at him, his frustration quickly restored. The Monster kept doing this.

"Maybe something to eat or drink? More blankets?"

Sans looked down. This was going to keep happening. Not just to him, but to Papyrus, too. He needed to figure out the rules, because if he didn’t…

"...drink..." He said timidly, as though doubting even the single syllable.

"What kind?"

Sans tensed and curled in on himself as much as he could without disturbing Papyrus. Even so, the other child's head slid off of him lap and on to the couch cushion. Sans stared at him for a moment, making sure Papyrus didn't wake before pulling his knees up to his chest, his legs serving as a barrier between him and The Monster. He could sense a shift in The Monster's demeanor above him, but didn't look up. How could he answer something like that correctly?

"I'll just bring you some water, alright?"

Sans nodded dumbly. He felt The Monster moving away, saw the shift of the shadows as his illumination receded. Sans kept staring at the same point until he flinched suddenly at a pain he hadn't been expecting. Prying at his hand plate had long ago become a comfort mechanism, and he did it now without even thinking about it. It had always hurt, but he did it anyway, and recently one of the screws had loosened enough to actually start shifting, grating against the bone. It was this sharper pain, unexpectedly intense, that caused him to startle... Sans thought he deserved it. Look at what he'd done. He pushed himself further away from Papyrus before The Monster returned.

The shadows shifted again, then a voice from above him, "Here you are."

Sans stared at the offered glass and felt like retching. He'd asked and received when he didn't know the price... What could be the cost of being ungrateful? It didn't matter. He had to know. He and Papyrus already owed The Monster too much, and if they couldn't escape from him, they would have to pay eventually. Sans hoped he could at least ensure he got the worst of it.

"what is it for?"

"Huh? It’s… It’s for yo-"

"no. what..." Sans couldn't make himself speak for a moment, "what do you want?"

\-----

"Weren't we just through this?"

Grillby said in a soft, amused voice, hoping a little humor might ease the tension abruptly present in the room. He was about to smile until the child recoiled from him further, and he realized how that might have sounded to someone as... Neglected as Sans. These children didn't understand basic jokes or altruistic behavior. Sans probably didn't have enough experience from whatever fucked up situation he was raised to realize the comment wasn't a criticism.

"I'm sorry," Grillby said with a sigh, feeling guilty and a little stupid. This, over a glass of water? He should’ve just said ‘world peace’ or ‘a pony’.

"I meant...” He scrambled, “Well, it doesn't matter what I meant. I don't want anything from you, Sans."

He waited for a response for a moment, but the child remained unresponsive. Grillby crouched beside the couch and tried to look at Sans' face, but all the elemental could find there was that controlled, neutral expression. The kid needed some kind of tangible answer to hold on to, he realized. Just like he’d needed Ambrose’s punishment. 

"I just want you and Papyrus to... Heal."

"and after that?" 

Grillby blinked. The kid was thinking that far ahead, huh? Honestly Grillby wasn't sure he himself had fully considered what would happen after the kids recovered. He certainly hadn't decided what he should tell them about it. Eventually there would have to be an investigation into what happened to the children, and someone in charge of underground social affairs would have to formally decide where to place them. They could go practically any where in the underground, and that wasn't even considering the educational component of their situation. But before that, Grillby was fairly certain they'd need a fair amount of physiological help and one on one tutoring before formal education was even a conceivable option. None of that was something he should say now, though.

"After that... I'd like you to play and have fun, be kids. Learn. Grow up, eventually."

"…that doesn't make sense." The boy murmured. He was always so damn quiet it was hard to hear him, and that was in Grillby’s opinion. The elemental himself wasn’t particularly loud. It was one of the reasons he made a good bartender.

Grillby's flames shifted as he considered what the boy said. Then, he held the water out to Sans, but the boy ignored it.

"Here's your water."

No response. Grillby didn't know what to do, so he just continued to hold it out, hoping the child would eventually accept it. Just as he was about to give up, a skeletal hand came forward, and Grillby loosened his grip expecting the boy to take the glass. Instead, his hand was jostled and pushed away, water splashing over the edges of the container and onto Grillby's own hand. He reacted on instinct, yanking away from the pain which only caused more water to hit his skin, and before Grillby knew it the glass was shattered on the ground.

"Ah, crap..." He said, his attention focused on the broken glass. He had to clean that up before someone hurt themselves - particularly one of the children. Without thinking, he started to reach down, but stopped short. Right. Broken glass and water. Not the best things to be handling with bare hands, he chastised himself. He started to stand, only to catch sight of Sans looking aghast.

"You okay?"

The child was still silent, but his pupils had faded out and Grillby thought he caught a glimpse of blue within the black. Wonderful. And things had been going so well.

"Sans, it's no big deal... I'm going to get a towel to clean this up with, alright?"

The child was unnaturally still as Grillby went to the closet, grabbing the supplies he needed before returning. It took only a few seconds to clean up, but by the time he was done he was thoroughly spooked by the skeleton child's eerie behavior. It was one thing to see him fearful or panicking, Grillby had been there himself. He could even relate to the episode that had happened under the table, when the dogs visited, but these silent pensive moments disturbed him in a way he couldn't describe. It was like someone had simply removed the batteries from a toy, and combined with the strange cross of absolute obedience and sudden outbursts both children exhibited made Grillby feel like he was walking on egg shells.

Both the kids were capable of violence, yet only Papyrus seemed to express any remorse about it, and that concerned Grillby. In general, Papyrus seemed the more responsive of the two, and even this morning when he was far quieter then Grillby had expected, the boy kept stealing glances at Grillby when he could, with an expression that seemed more curious then cautionary. He was certain Sans was still just processing, too afraid and overwhelmed to cope, but none the less if it hadn't been for the loving ways he'd seen Sans interact with his brother, Grillby might worry that the boy had a personality disorder more based on biology then background. As it was, Sans didn't emote enough, and when he did it either looked fake or was negative. Grillby hoped this would change in time, but… He had to consider the possibility.

As he picked up the last of the glass, Grillby looked at Sans again. He felt the need to comfort the child, but had realized the boy didn't like to be touched, so he said, "There. All better, right?"

Of course that wasn't quite true, but it would be shortly enough, just after Grillby got a chance to stoke him flame for a moment. He went to the kitchen and got another glass of water, but instead of trying to hand it to Sans he pulled his leg rest over to the couch and put the glass down there, well within the skeleton's reach. He didn't know if the child wanted it now, but thought that it was better to play it safe.

Then, he went back to the kitchen. He was trying to force himself on the children, and he knew that was a poor decision based on what he'd discussed with the doctors and Capri, as well as what he'd read from the book, but it was hard not to. He wanted them to like him, or... At least not fear him.

Space, Grillby reminded himself, give them space, at least for the first few days. It was going to be hard, though. It had barely been four days since his accident with the cave in, and only one since he'd recovered and he was already going stir crazy. There were reasons why Grillby ran his own restaurant without more than the occasional waitress or bus boy. He was a natural hard worker and busy body. At home he was a quiet man of quiet habits, but that was more because that was what he needed after a hectic day of work spent entirely on his feet then due to the lifestyle suiting him. After a full day of prep work, customer service, town gossip, and cleaning, anyone would be ready to sink into a large chair with a good book and be content, but without the normal chaos Grillby felt fidgety and malcontent with his quiet life.

The dishes were a momentary distraction well-received, but cleaning for three when you're used to a whole restaurant full doesn't take much time, so Grillby decided to clean his already immaculate kitchen. When he found himself scrubbing at a stain he knew was simply an imperfection in the marble for the third time (an imperfection that had plagued him since the construction of the house) he moved to rearranging the supplies Capri had brought him. It didn't take long before his cabinets were alphabetized again, something that he didn't do habitually, but regularly happened when he couldn't sleep or was upset. His bag of pinecones didn't fit on the shelf they were supposed to, however, so he debated between placing them under "T" for "tinder" or "D" for "de-light-fuel". He groaned at his inner Ambrose before carrying the bag back to the living room. It was nearly empty anyway.

Sans was still sitting stalk still on the couch, but Grillby noticed with some relief that his eye lights had returned and were focused, clearly, on the glass in front of him. And when Grillby passed the chair he normally sat in, the child's gaze shifted to follow him again. Grillby walked over to the radio, an older model, but almost elegant because of it. It matched the rest of his eclectic decorum well, and the speakers still functioned quite well despite their age. Turning it on, he turned it almost automatically to his favorite channel.

"-harming you in return isn't going to make the world a better place, it'll just cause more pain." Said a feminine voice, crackling slightly through the speakers before Grillby adjusted the tuning, "Besides, now that I know more about Robert I don't think I'll miss him much."

"I know, but..." Interjected another female voice, this one weaker and more tearful, "You seemed so happy, for a while. Even if it wasn't true love, I sabotaged what you two had together just because I was jealous. I'm so sorry, Nayeli. I just kept seeing the two of you together, and the way he looked at you, Pru, I just... I wish that someone would look at me like that someday."

"Linda, Linda, Linda... There's your problem right there." The first voice said, "You keep talking like no one's ever going to love you, but have you ever go looking for it? You can't just wait for your prince charming to come, Lin. You've got to go find him. I mean, have you ever even talked to a man? For all you know, the poor dude could be stuck in a tree somewhere."

The other voice snorted, then said, "I guess you're right."

"Of course. I'm always right. Can we be friends again, already?"

"Best friends."

Suddenly the male voice of the announcer cut over the conversation, saying, "We'll be back to another episode of "Live, Life, Love, Linda" after a few words from our sponsors. Today's episodes-"

"-Are reruns." Grillby muttered to himself, tuning the radio to something different. He was disappointed, he had been hoping that the new episode of "Live, Life, Love, Linda" might have an earlier airtime then the late Friday one he was used to catching. It was one of his many guilty pleasures, among other books and broadcasts clearly meant for middle aged women and the romantic-but-disillusioned/hopeless demographic. He had a love of crappy dramas, kept secret for the most part, except for the few people who visited him regularly enough to stumble upon the fact, and Dogaressa, who'd actually recognized him quoting one of the overly worded, corny scripts when one of his drunker patrons had asked - or rather demanded - that the elemental provide him with romance advice.

It was around that time that the alpha started calling him "pup" and "sweetheart" instead of sticking strictly with his proper name. He'd resisted weakly at first but was perhaps a little disarmed by the diminutives... Though their sudden development not directly after the occurrence but rather a few days afterwards made him wonder if perhaps it was more a product of the rumor mill then of his own personality. 

He had tried mocking her back about it once, but the dog had simply laughed and said that it was her sisters who were addicted to the broadcasting, and she'd only recognized that particular line because it happened to be from an episode she and Dogomy had been unwillingly subjected to three separate times over one week as they traveled across the underground visiting family members.

Grillby settled on listening to the Underground Public Radio channel, which was broadcasting an informational quiz show. It was more pop-culture then he really cared for, but after it was done there would be a cooking feature he was rather fond of, mostly to compare the responses the hostess gave to listener questions with the advice he himself would've given. Turning to go back to his chair, he found not one but two skeletons staring at him with startled, curious expressions.

\-----

Papyrus woke to the voices of strangers. The realization yanked him from his dreams like a dog from the waste bin, and he popped upright quickly, sitting and glancing around. He wasn’t quite fearful, but uncertain what new people might mean for him and his brother. Sans was on the opposite end of the couch, and quickly Papyrus crawled over to join him, realizing the tension in the other child as he approached.

At first, Papyrus hesitated even to touch Sans, unaware of the context of the situation. As he drew near, though, Sans reacted with a glance and what seemed like a small, forced smile. Desperately forced. Papyrus grabbed his brother’s hand for comfort, encouraged as the other skeleton allowed him, even wrapping his own pale phalanges into the grip. Sans was seeking comfort as much as he was, Papyrus realized, and leaned against his brother’s shoulder. He nearly whined when Sans pulled his hand away, but was silenced before he spoke when the older brother shifted to make room for him on the end of the couch. Soon, Sans’ arm was wrapped around Papyrus as they watched The Monster together, Papyrus soothed by Sans’ borderline-uncomfortable embrace, though in this moment, he was unclear as to who was supporting who…

Settled, Papyrus again looked for who was speaking, but found only The Monster before them. He was in the corner, bent over a small machine on one of the shelves. He fiddled with it, and the voices suddenly distorted, combining with strange incoherent sounds and static. When it cleared again, Papyrus noticed the faint metallic, unnatural quality of the voices. It was like when Doctor Ga… The Doctor spoke to him in the testing rooms when Papyrus had to run or attack things. Curiosity and trepidation mingled in Papyrus’ mind as a result of this realization, but with his brother beside him, Papyrus focused on the former.

“-asing his research on souls to conduct an investigation he believes will allow us to better understand the long term effect of the CORE. Since you got that correct, you gain another five points, and that puts you in the lead! Moving on to you, Myra! This next question is double or noth-” 

The voice of the radio host was smooth and jovial, ringing out through the room as The Monster turned around. Laying eyes on the children, he stopped for a moment. It wasn’t a large reaction, he didn’t jump, but Papyrus could tell The Monster was momentarily taken off guard as Papyrus watched him.

“Good afternoon.” The Monster said, “Do you feel any better after your nap, Papyrus?”

Papyrus frowned, then nodded. Honestly, he did feel better, but that was more to do with Sans than anything else. His eyes and throat were still weird from all the crying he did the night before, but otherwise he actually felt better than he had in a long time.

“I’m glad to hear that. You don’t have to do anything right now, but I was actually going to wake you up after a little while if you didn’t get up soon… If you sleep too much now you won’t be able to at night time.”

Papyrus blinked, looking at Sans for a moment. He opened his mouth, but second guessed himself and said nothing before looking back to The Monster.

“What do you want to say?” The Monster asked.

He winced, then said, “WHY DOES NIGHT TIME MATTER?”

“Oh,” Grillby said, then, “I’ll need to go back to work eventually, and it would be a lot easier if we were running on the same schedule by then.”

Papyrus shrank back and felt Sans react beside him by tensing further. The Monster wasn’t working right now. That made sense. Sensing this reaction, The Monster continued in a kindly tone as he retreated to his chair by the fireplace.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a room in the back you two can stay in during the day. It’s fully furnished.” He added, “I actually lived in the bar for a couple years while I got my feet under me. I’ll have to clean the place out, though. I’ve been using it for storage… Maybe you two could help me?”

“HELP YOU-U WHAT?” Papyrus said, though he felt Sans’ grip shift in an attempt to signal him into silence.

“Clean the storage room… Rec room? Whatever room. Ever since I moved out, it’s been about a million things. For a while I actually lived in the back, until I met Tisi and moved here, then it was a play room. In the past few years it’s been shifting between being storage and the staff break area for whenever it’s been more than just me working, which has been a while, to be honest.” The Monster paused, and a tense silence started, broken moments later as Grillby asked, “Do either of you have any interest in cooking? You could… Be…”

Grillby trailed off abruptly, his gaze dropping down slowly until he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Against his better judgement Papyrus suddenly felt a wash of sympathy come over him for The Monster, though he didn’t understand why the elemental sounded so sad so suddenly, halfway through his sentence.

“BE WHAT?” Papyrus asked, and The Monster did jump this time.

“I was going to say you could be my sous chefs,” he said, evenly, “But that probably doesn’t interest you, so… Never mind.”

“OH.” Papyrus left that statement alone, distracted, and squirmed a little. Sans was nearly crushing him now, but he didn’t want to actually say anything to his older brother. He managed to get himself into a more comfortable position when Sans’ grip loosened a little, and sighed. He was laying on his back now, stretched over the couch with his back against Sans, who’s arm wrapped around Papyrus’ chest. He couldn’t see The Monster very well without straining his eyes and it annoyed him.

“what’s a sous chef?”

Papyrus was a startled to hear his brother ask. So was The Monster, evidently, as it took him a moment to reply.

“Someone who helps the chef make food.”

“what’s a chef?”

“I am, basically.” The Monster said, “I mean, I never went to culinary school, but the bar’s successful enough, and I think that makes me chef.”

Sans let out a breath of frustration, but Papyrus knew he wasn’t going to ask. So, he risked getting crushed more.

“BUT WHAT IS-S A CHEF?”

“Someone who makes food for money.”

Sans’ attention perked at this. Papyrus could feel it in the way he shifted forward a little, the desperate hold on him loosening a little. Somehow, Papyrus didn’t feel comforted by this.

“money?” Sans asked, “how do you get money?”

“By working.” The Monster replied, and Sans sagged back again, disappointed. Meanwhile, Papyrus made a connection.

“YOUR WORK IS MAKING FOOD?”

“Yes?”

Papyrus suddenly struggled against Sans’ hold to sit upright again, excited. Breaking free, he looked at The Monster with wonder, trying to figure out if he was being deceitful. The Monster, for his part, just looked confused.

“WHAT ELSE?”

“Well, I mix drinks, too…” The Monster said, as if uncertain what Papyrus wanted, “And clean? Maintain the equipment?”

“FOR FOOD?”

“Yes, for food.” Grillby wore an expression somewhere between a smile and confusion.

Papyrus had to stop himself for a moment while he thought of what to say. Glancing at his brother, he wondered if Sans had the same realization. Sans was looking at him with a frown, so he couldn’t tell. He didn’t know if he should tell him in front of the monster, though, so he continued.

“THAT MAKES-AKES-KES SENSE BECAUSE YOU MAKE GOOD FOOD. THE FOOD THAT YOU MADE WAS THE BEST FOOD I’VE EVER HAD!” He looked between Sans and The Monster, “IN FACT, YOU SHOULD MAKE MORE FOOD! BECAUSE IT IS GOOD!”

“I’m very glad you like it, Papyrus.” The Monster said, obviously pleased and a little taken aback, “I guess it is a little past lunch time, but you two haven’t really been eating at normal times, anyway… I thought I would wait until a little later. Then again, with the new medication-”

“WE DON’T HAVE MONEY, THOUGH!” Papyrus said suddenly, aghast. At this, The Monster actually laughed. It was an odd sound.

“You don’t need any money, for surface sake… What would you like?”

Papyrus looked at The Monster, his eyes practically stars of excitement. “FOOD!”

“That’s not what…” Grillby shook his head and humored the child, “I guess it’ll be a few minutes, alright? Do you need a drink in the meantime?”

“NO!”

The Monster got up and went to the kitchen. He paused at the doorway for a moment, looking back at the children, bewildered but greatful. As soon as he was out of sight, Papyrus sprung towards Sans.

“HE’S A CHEF! HE COOKS FOR PEOPLE!” Papyrus said, “DO YOU-”

“papyrus…”

San’s tone silenced the excited child instantly, the older skeleton’s expression causing Papyrus’ smile to falter.

“you shouldn’t have spoken so much.”

“I MADE HIM HAPPY, THOUGH.” Papyrus said, instantly defensive, “YOU ALWAYS TOLD ME TO TRY TO MAKE DOCT-”

“don’t,” Sans ordered, squirming a little. “you did a good job making him happy, but you can’t… he’s…”

The boy trailed off.

“…HE’S NICE.” Papyrus said, though his voice was uncertain now.

Sans huddled in the corner of the couch. Papyrus wasn’t certain how to react now, as his brother’s eye lights had dimmed but didn’t fade completely out. Paprus knew he was thinking. Sans’ hands moved together and Papyrus frowned at the familiar twang of noise. He looked at his own hands, then, flexing them experimentally. Wincing was almost a reflexive behavior at this point, but honestly he didn’t need to, the rough edges of the break now remodeled enough that what pain he had he didn’t respond to.

“monsters like him don’t help things like us for no reason, pap.” Sans interjected, “he’s got to expect something from us.”

“MAYBE HE’LL JUST WANT HELP COOKING AND CLEANING.”

Sans was quiet. “…maybe…”

“WHAT ELSE WOULD HE WANT?”

“how should I know?!” Sans said with a bit of heat, and Papyrus pulled back from his reaction. “he’s a monster. they always want something.”

“HE’S BEEN HELPING US FEEL BETTER.”

“yes, but why?”

Papyrus shrugged. He didn’t know.

“papyrus?” Sans said, and the younger skeleton looked up at him, “what happens when he has a bad day?”

“MAYBE HE WON’T?” Papyrus said, his voice something like hopeful, though he knew his brother could hear through the façade. Dropping it, he corrected himself, “HE’S DIFFERENT. MAYBE IT WON’T BE-E…E…”

“maybe he’ll just kill us.”

Papyrus startled, looking at Sans with a sharp expression of worry. “WHY?”

“we’re not important to his work like we were to… to the doctor’s work. maybe if we anger him he’ll just get rid of us. it doesn’t really seem like he need sous chefs.”

Papyrus felt himself start to tear up and covered his face with his hands. He didn’t want to cry again, but his normal source of comfort was what was causing his current turmoil and he didn’t care to put himself closer to Sans right now. His job was to look on the good side of things…

“MAYBE-BE-E…” Papyrus whimpered, “MAYBE HE’D JUST LET US GO…”

“he wouldn’t have hunted us down after we escaped it that were the case.”

“HE WOULDN’T HAVE HEALED YOU EITHER, THOUGH.”

Papyrus saw Sans pause a moment, then blink. “huh?”

“YOU… YOU WERE…” Papyrus couldn’t say it. Aganst his will, he had started wepping again. Very quietly, for once, because he was still trying so hard to stop it. Sans leaned forward to hold his and Papyrus let him, leaning into the embrace.

“papyrus, what happened?”

“WHEN WE ESCAPED...”

“oh…” Sans said, “what exactly-?”

Papyrus just shook his head, and, giving in, pulled Sans closer as he buried face against Sans’ and sobbed. In the kitchen, he heard The Monster pause whatever he was doing there. He imagined his brother and The Monster staring at each other while he cried and whimpered again, but Sans body language told him that this was not the case. Maybe Sans’ eyes were closed. The Monster started cooking again. The radio had switched shows by now, and Papyrus listened to the confident voice of some unknown stranger talk about how to make a cake. He wondered what cake was. Eventually, he’d calmed down enough to pull away.

As he did, he noticed how limp Sans was. Eyes half lidded, the older sibling didn’t seem at first to register the shift, his skull bobbing up and down a little now that it was unsupported by Papyrus’ head. Papyrus shook him, an indignant expression on his face as Sans almost instantly came to.

“what? i wasn’t asleep.”

“YOU WOULD’VE BEEN IN A FEW MINUTES!”

Sans shrugged, his expression having reverted to his normal grin. Papyrus felt relieved, then remembered what he was so excited about earlier.

“SANS?”

“yeah, pap?”

“CHEFS COOK FOR PEOPLE…”

“yeah?”

“SO… THEY DON’T DO RESEARCH.”

Papyrus watched as Sans' eyes widened. He know the other boy had realized this fact earlier, but Sans' pessimistic outlook had prevented him from realizing one specific thing until now, where as Papyrus had been searching for it.

"no more tests," Sans said reverently. He smiled. Papyrus knew it was a real smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I think I recognize a couple of the lines from the corny radio show Grillby listens habitually...
> 
> And quotes.


	19. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster continues his work. Grillby and the kids color. Short chapter, mostly fluff... <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that non-chronological timeline, folks. Yeah~
> 
> Also. My hits. They're over 9,000!!! And I have one comment for each day of the year, too! ^_^
> 
> Thank you all!

"T͟his ͞is͝ ̸śt͞u͠p̛id..͏." Gaster murmured to himself looking over the blueprints of the machine. The notes were almost too detailed, writing crossing over itself and shrinking in a futile attempt to fit more on each page, so he was transcribing them into something more orderly. He understood what _she_ was trying to do now, but this was far fetched, even by his standards. And as a risk taker, he had low standards for plausibility. It had always paid off, though. He was the one who made the core, the first scientist to isolate and successfully replicate elements of the soul, the first to... His eyes slid to his latest project. A kernel of doubt had wedged itself into his mind and he reacted to it with anger, reflecting his frustrations with his own work to that of the dead. With an irritated moan, he tossed the thick stack of papers to the ground beside him and uncrossed his stiff legs before attempting to stand.

"Impo͟͞s͘͝s̸į̛b̕͘l̨e!̀͞" he exclaimed, then, just as he was nearly steady on two legs another fierce wave of vertigo and nausea swept over him. He stumbled, then fell to catch himself on his elbows and knees. 

Oh, his head... One of Gaster's hands went to his face, massaging his temples. He'd been too close to the CORE for too long. No problem, really, he'd be fine, he just needed to get out before the symptoms worsened. He swallowed, regaining his composure, and pushed himself up again. It was then that he saw it, just for a moment. A reflection and a splash of green, scattered from existence as quickly as it had come, but Gaster felt his tattered soul's pulse quicken. He didn't know if it was with fear or excitement. Quickly, he turned back to gather the papers he had just thrown down, before staggering out of the CORE room.

He had call to make. He had research to do.

\-----

Listening in on the children's conversation had been chilling, and Grillby had only been able to hear what Papyrus said over the sizzle of the meal he was making. He was glad that he finally seemed to have made some progress towards having them realize he was helping then, but felt a bitter twang of regret that they still were so convinced he would demand something in return, later. He'd restrained himself from checking on them until he heard sobbing, but found Sans shushing Papyrus comfortingly with his eyes closed and decided not to intervene.

The meal itself was nearly comfortable, for once, the children eating slowly and asking occasionally what this or that was. He'd made chicken and dumplings with cooked greens for the children, an odd combination, but the chicken and dumplings was his blatant attempt at winning them over with something high in fat and carbs and comfort, and the greens his attempt to balance this with something high in nutritional value, including calcium. He'd also chosen the dishes because they kept him busy for nearly an hour, out of the children's way as they spoke to each other and acclimated. This considered, he wasn't surprised when the greens went mostly untouched on Sans plate, the child eventually picking at them when all his other food was gone.

"Not a fan of the greens, Sans?" Grillby asked. The child shrank back a little, then shook his head. Grillby smiled encouragingly at him and the child spoke in his ever-whisper of a voice.

"they're bitter," he said, reluctantly poking the mound with his fork.

"You don't have to eat all of them," Grillby offered, "How about one more bite for each year of your age, okay?"

Sans paused, then asked, "how long's a year?"

"About twelve months," Grillby responded, "Do you know what a month is?"

"...kinda..."

"About four weeks. Often a bit longer."

"twenty eight days..." Sans mumbled.

"Huh?"

"a month is about twenty eight days," Sans repeated, "so a year's three hundred and thirty six days..."

"Um..." Grillby tried to d the math in his head. Frustrated, he used a nearby notepad to quickly figure out the numbers as he wasn't particularly good with arithmetic. As one of the old elementals, he'd never gained a formal education outside of what interested him after the revolution, so while he had a basic grasp of algebra and geometry, even a little trigonometry, he hardly had his multiplication tabled memorized. Every class he'd attended had allowed a calculator for such work, and in the business he always just entered things in through the register. It made the customers happy, anyway.

"Yeah, that's what you would get." He said, finally, "I'm impressed you could figure that out so quickly. Actually, though, it's three hundred and sixty five... Well, most years."

He looked up to find Sans looking at him almost judgmentally before the child averted his gaze. Grillby put down the pen and paper and pushed them away from him.

"Do you know how old you are?"

Sans shook his head.

"How about we pick a number, then?" Grillby said, then, wanting the child to get at least some nutrition, added, "anything greater then three."

"...five?" Sans said in a moment.

"Five bites?"

"yeah, five."

"Why five?" Grillby asked. He'd been expecting four.

Sans shrugged and fondled one of his hand plates, "it's convenient."

Grillby snorted. "One for each finger, huh?"

Sans nodded. He was still looking down, but Grillby thought the child might have smiled a little. "Well, eat your five bites than, and I'll get this cleaned up."

Sans obliged immediately, not taking particularly small bites, either. By the time he was finished, the greens were practically gone anyway, but the boy seemed relieved not to have to deal with the last few forkfuls. Before Grillby moved to take them away, however, Papyrus interjected.

"I'LL..." He paused, humming little "L" noises uncertainly. His plate was nearly polished, Grillby noted, "I'LL EAT THEM."

"I appreciate it, Papyrus, but you don't have to."

"I LIKE THEM, THOUGH. AND... YOU SAID WE COULD HAVE SECONDS?"

Grillby shrugged and moved the plate closer to Papyrus. When he was done, he offered, "More?"

Papyrus shook his head. With that, Grillby took the dishes to the sink and washed them quickly sink nothing else was in it. He himself had finished his stray bag of pine cones and enjoyed a few of his own, slightly modified, dumplings. Less water, more oil, and baked instead of boiled. Delightful. Grillby's inner Ambrose made the same pun from earlier and he suppressed a groan. Damn that otter!

Medication was disbursed and taken without discussion or complaint. With that done, Grillby suggested that they all go back to the living room once again. He noticed that Sans got up first, supporting his brother as they walked the short way there, and frowned. Papyrus' coordination wasn't a new issue, then? Or one that had been solved with healing...

Instead of go to his chair, Grillby sat on the floor, prompting nervous and wondering looks from the children. Motioning to a the small pile of paper he'd set out earlier, he said, "I'm going to draw a little. would you like to join me?"

Monster see, monster do, he figured. Besides, he didn't want to spent the rest of his evening trapped in the house reading and listening to radio if he could help it, not that he hated it, he would just rather do something more constructive. The children sat on the floor nearby, the ugly purple carpeting softening the polished hardwood floors. Grillby passed out the paper before selecting a color to start with and putting the rest of the package near the children. Then, he started drawing, already knowing what he intended to draw. Both a perfectionist and notably _not_ an artist, it was easy for Grillby to become absorbed in the activity, concentrating far to hard on getting objects and shapes in his drawing _correct_. He wasn't entirely certain how long had passed - no more then a few minutes he reasoned, since he hadn't changed colors yet - before Sans' voice caught his attention.

"dan-dell... ion?"

He looked up to find the boy reading one of the creatively titled labels on a bright yellow crayon. Papyrus was looking at him, fully absorbed, the rest of the crayons scattered about him. Grillby noticed that the entire bunch was in disarray, save for five crayon which were neatly lined up by Papyrus' paper. A green, a dark blue, a red, paler yellow, and black.

"dandel-ion" he said again, notably separating "ion" from the rest of the word and making the "d" and the "l" much harder then they needed to be.

"Dandelion," Grillby corrected gently, causing the boys to jump. "It's a type of flower on the surface, so I'm not surprised you're not familiar with them. Sometimes we get them down here, but not very often... Very pretty, but on the surface a lot of humans consider them a weed and call them crab grass."

"oh," Sans said, then repeated the word correctly, "dandelion."

Grillby resumes drawing, but pays a bit more attention to what the boys are doing now. Sans hands the caryon to Papyrus, who scribbles on his paper briefly before lining "dandelion" up with the other five colors. Grillby wonders what's so special about them. Sans seems to have no interest in drawing, instead taking one of his sheets of paper and beginning to tear it into ribbons. Grillby recognized it as a nervous habit and said nothing, thinking that it is better then some of Sans' other ways of dealing with stress. Papyrus continues to go through the crayons one by one, reading their labels and sounding them out occasionally without saying anything. He scribbles, and the crayon is added to his ever-increasing row of crayons, until he finds one he struggles with and hands it to Sans.

This time, Grillby notices Sans eyeball him from the corner of his vision before he speaks.

"apricot," the child murmurs, and after a moment hands the color over to Papyrus who continues his ritual. Sans is still looking at Grillby.

"Do you like to read, Sans?" Grillby asks, wondering what's on the boy's mind. Of coarse, all he gets is a shrug.

"You sound like you like to read," Grillby says. It isn't quite true, dandelion was a fairly simple word for a boy of Sans' approximate age to struggle with, but Grillby doesn't want to say that. "Papyrus, can you hand me the blue?"

Papyrus nods and gives Grillby the crayon in exchange for the one he was using previously. Papyrus makes a happy noise and hands the crayon instantly to Sans.

"o... o-range?" Sans says awkwardly, and Grillby can tell the boy is looking at him.

"Orange. A type of fruit, specifically citrus." The elemental supplies, and Papyrus snatches the crayon from his brother, scribbling for longer then normal. Then, orange goes into the line. Several more crayons go into the line and Grillby had swapped colors twice before Papyrus gasps again again.

"SANS," he says, "IT'S YOU!"

Sans reaches out and Papyrus hands him a light blue crayon. Grillby wonders if it will be "robins egg" or "cyan", and is disappointed when the normally flowery language of the labels simply leads to "light blue". It seems Papyrus just wanted to show Sans the color crayon that matches his magic perfectly, and Grillby feels another bit of irritation as he realizes this... Well, what's done is done.

By the time Grillby is done with his drawing, the boys have identified all the colors from the package. "White" apparently was a disappointment, as Papyrus thought it was spelled exotically and didn't appreciate that he already knew the word. Now, both boys were actually drawing, and grillby could see what Papyrus was doing earlier, each of the crayons now lined up on a thin scribble of their own color on the page. Orange and Light Blue had particularly large areas, and Grillby wondered if it was because the boy liked them. He watched the boys for a while, waiting for them to get to what seemed to be a stopping point before interrupting them.

"What did you two draw?" he asked, and the boys looked a little taken aback. Papyrus was happy to show him, though, holding up a crude depiction of an echo flower next to another one drawn in vibrant yellow.

"IT'S A VOICE-FLOWER AND A DANDELION!" He said proudly, and Grillby smiled, not daring to mention that dandelions weren't nearly that complex or grandiose. Papyrus had a second drawing which was slightly more disturbing, until the boy explained it. The drawing showed a figure with a huge grin and what seemed to be spikes all over him, hands clasping over what Grillby first interpreted as a massive bleeding wound.

"AND THIS IS SANS WHEN HE GOT ME MY BLANKET!" Papyrus announced. Grillby had already noticed that Sans' default expression was a grin, or a grimace that could be mistaken for one, and the spikes were now obviously ribs, the would far to orange to depict blood for a child who had laborously created a key to the crayons, Grillby was certain, simply to make sure he used the best one for the job.

"Those are beautiful!" Grillby exclaimed, dotingly, "I especially love the one with the flowers. You know, I actually think that the dandelion might be my favorite flower. I always was rather fond of them... They're very hardy little things."

It was true. Dandelions could grow anywhere. Grillby had watched them grow in battlefields long before any other beauty returned to the place.

"What did you draw, Sans?"

The boy shrugged, but showed Grillby anyway without comment. It seemed to be a series of circles, each a different color and overlapping one another slightly to form a ring, almost another circle constructed of circles. The shapes were lopsided, slightly oval, but with clean crisp lines. Intentional. The overlap caused a lovely spectrum of colors, even some that weren't in the moderately sized 28 pack.

"That's lovely..." Grillby said, "It reminds me of a rainbow. Did you ever see one while you were in Waterfall?"

Sans shrugged while Papyrus shook his head. "NO."

"There's almost always one by waterfall nearest to the cave where a friend of mine lives. Maybe we'll go see it one day." Grillby said, "They're very pretty. Would you like to see what I drew?"

"YES!"

Grillby held up the drawing. It still frustrated him that he had used the wrong blue for Sans' hoodie.

"It's you and Sans on the couch," Grillby said, addressing Papyrus, "You two are safe and happy, and I'm in the other room making us something to eat. I'm also happy, because you two are happy, and also because I'm cooking. What do you think?"

"IT IS A VERY-RY GOOD DRAWING!" Papyrus exclaimed, and Grillby smiled a him, glad that the boy approved. He wondered if he was getting the message through anymore this way, but was figured that Papyrus' reaction of delight was enough either way. He looked at Sans to see his reaction... Sans brow ridge was wrinkled, expression terse but body language otherwise relaxed. When he noticed Grillby looking at his, he averted his gaze, face going neutral once again.

Grillby stretched and stood up slowly, yawning and looking the time. It would be a while before he made diner and put the boys to bed, but he was done with drawing for a while. Holding his own drawing in his hand, he went over to the boys.

"Can I have your drawings?" He asked, and Sans handed it over immediately while Papyrus paused a moment with a frown. After a second, the drawing were offered without comment and a sad expression, almost heartbreaking after the boy's earlier excitement.

"What's wrong, Papyrus?"

"I THOUGHT..." He started, "THAT WE W-WOULD KEEP THEM LONGER."

"Oh!" Grillby said, understanding, "I'm not getting rid of them! I'm putting them on the fridge for everyone to see... Here, come with me."

He offered Papyrus a hand which the boy took, and led him to the kitchen, unsurprising to find Sans following them. He let go of Papyrus near a wall, grateful he had fewer magnets then he had pictures so that he could keep the one of Sans hidden behind the flowers. When he was done, the three pictures were neatly aligned on the refrigerator, Sans' circles vertically aligned while the other two were next to it horizontal.

"What do you think? You... You can have them back to take to your room if you'd rather have them there. But if we put them here, then everyone can see them whenever they're at the diner table, alright?"

Papyrus didn't seem to know how to react. "YOU WANT TO SEE THEM?"

"Yes, of coarse I do." Grillby said, "They're very nice. In fact, I'd love it if you drew me some more. I'll have to buy more magnets soon, but for now we'll just display our favorites... As it is, it's going to be pretty hard to beat those flowers!"

He looked down to see Papyrus smiling, and next to him, Sans looking to the fridge once more with complete neutrality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even begin to explain how sick I am right now guys. I have an essay, two tests, an abstract and a science symposium poster (for my research) all due by Wednesday but I keep... Um... Experiencing "Gastrointestinal distress" as it were. From both ends. It's terrible. My only comfort right now is writing fluff. But hey, fluff, right?


	20. Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby and the children interact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Chapter 20. Chapter 20, people! This is the chapter I thought I would be ENDING this fanfiction on. Do you know what we're no where near the ending of? This fanfiction! 
> 
> Hold on to your butts, though, because while we've now entered the zone of fluff that is 'Sans and Papyrus grow up", when things change they are going to change DRAMATICALLY and with very little forewarning. You certainly have several chapters of fluff to go, though. My current estimate for the length of this is ~50 chapters, in fact. And then there are going to be 2... Um... Let's call them "sequels". Yeah...
> 
> Anyway, I have a request for you guys, if you're willing... What questions do you have about this? Do you have any theories? Anything you think will be important later or anything like that?
> 
> On a complete side note, this chapter is 4,922 words long. 12 pages. Yay! I also lied to one of you fair readers, telling you this chapter would be titled "Nightmare"... Well, apparently not. Things are taking a bit longer then expected, and apparently this ONE DAY is going to be five chapters long. Jaysus! 0_o
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. :3

It seemed as though Papyrus would be happy drawing for the rest of the evening, something Grillby could hardly object to. Sans didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic about the activity, but he didn’t seem malcontent either. He worked slower than his brother, with less passion, often stopping and staring at his own work with a blank expression. Both children seemed to be keeping an eye on Grillby, pausing to stare at him whenever he made any movement larger than the scribbling of his own crayon. 

Once Papyrus had flinched when he reached out to change colors, careful to maintain the child's organization, and Sans had stopped drawing for a long time after that. His face had still been angled towards the paper, but Grillby could feel those pinpoint eyes boring into him. Eventually, the child went back to drawing his geometric shapes and Grillby nearly sighed in relief. After a couple hours of this, Grillby once again grew restless. He excused himself and grabbed a tape measure from his tool box, kept tucked in the shelves closest to the door, before going up the stairs. He stopped at the doorway of the children's room.

Even empty, it was filled with ghosts. Not as bad as before, he could actually stand to be in the room now, but the presence was there none the less. Before he could think any more on it, Grillby forced himself inside and started measuring the walls, thinking of what he would do with the redesign. He wanted it to be cheerful and child friendly, something that Sans and Papyrus would enjoy while they stayed with him, but also elegant enough he wouldn't have to redo it again after they left. Two colors, he decided, the bare wall in some pale color on top and painted paneling on the lower third. Or unpainted, maybe, if the underground had any decent wood left in it. Something dark like ash or pine would tie the room in nicely to the rest of his houses' decor, but he didn't know if the kids would like it, and thought maybe a dark blue or green on the paneling and an off white might do nicely.

As Grillby turned to measure the next wall he jumped, his flames flaring for a moment as he found the unexpected figure of Sans in the doorway. In the instant Grillby reacted, Sans did too, his expression snapping to one of panic as his eye suddenly flashed. Then, Sans was simply gone. Grillby looked around for the child, and hand pressed against the center of his chest in a reflexive soothing gesture but found no trace of the child. Curious, he dropped what he was doing and went down the stairs rather quickly, only to find the children exactly as he had left them.

If anything, Sans seemed nearly asleep, his eyes half lidded as he watched his brother. Papyrus noticed Grillby watching them first, looking up with a small grin that vanished when he saw the emotion on the elemental’s face. The boy put the crayon he was using down and dropped his gaze, while his brother's eyes moved up to Grillby with a surprisingly calm expression behind them. They widened in a way that seemed superficial to Grillby, but he dismissed the thought as soon as he had it. There was no way Sans could've gotten down the stairway and positioned himself so casually without Grillby seeing it, and his sudden descent and unnerved expression were clearly frightening the children.

“Papyrus, Sans?” The elemental said uncertainly, “Do you need anything?”

Sans just stared at him while Papyrus shook his head, still looking uncomfortable.

“Alright,” Grillby responded, “Just… Let me know if I can get you anything.”

What the hell? Had he just imagined that? The elemental shook himself and returned to the upstairs. When he picked up the tape measure, he stared at it for a moment, trying to rationalize. That had been... Abnormal, but not unheard of, right? He was under a lot of stress, and already had a history of perceiving things that weren't really there ever since the war. Maybe the kid was faster than Grillby thought. He reminded himself of the time Sans seemingly vanished from the alleyway. He shouldn’t dwell on it. Whatever, right? His job was to keep the kids safe and work on getting them comfortable enough that they could talk about what happened.

\-----

“SANS?” Papyrus asked once The Monster was up the stairs again, “WHAT DID-ID-”

The younger skeleton was completely stuck on the word. He didn’t understand why this happened, and his hands balled into firsts as he continued, unwillingly, to spit out the steady trickle of broken syllable. His verbal glitches had combined with the added frustration of Sans’ hypocrisy, and he struggled not to be angry at his brother. Sans just waited for Papyrus to quiet himself, and the younger brother did not bother finishing his question once he stopped.

“i checked what he was doing. he’s faster than…” Sans paused before saying it, “than the doctor.”

“WHY?” Papyrus said, hitting a tone he himself was unaccustomed to making. It was unusually stressed, and kind of felt like he was growling.

Sans shrugged and glanced down, and Papyrus frowned at him. Papyrus didn’t understand why Sans talked about monsters like that, with a hesitation before referring to them directly. It wasn’t pronounced, except for when he talked about The Doctor. Somehow, that’s what Gaster had become since the misunderstanding, The Doctor instead of The Scientist, even though Papyrus could tell the change in term made Sans tense that much more.

“WHAT WAS HE DOING?” Papyrus asked, knowing he would be ignored if he asked virtually anything else. Sometimes he wondered if Sans even knew why he did the things he did, with how rarely he was willing answer that question.

“measuring the walls,” Sans said dully, “that means he’s going to make some changes to the room.”

“OH.” Papyrus replied. There was a period of quiet in which Papyrus relaxed, taking up a green crayon and scribbling once more on the paper.

He wondered what the changes would be. Once, he’d blasted one of the observation windows of their room by accident. Both the window and the wall had been magic-proofed, but the sealant and screws that held the windows in place had not… He and Sans had both been punished after that, and didn’t see each other for a long time, but it was the only time he remembered The Doctor making changes to their room. When they were finally put back in it together, all the rooms’ windows were double planed, and the boys could see a glimmer of magic between the panels. Papyrus didn’t know what it did. Sans started getting angry at him for using magic in their room after that.

“what do you think he’s doing?” Sans asked, and Papyrus was startled by the question.

“HUH?”

“you… you always said that you thought monsters could be nice,” Sans said, and Papyrus had the abrupt realization that his brother had started trembling as soon as The Monster went upstairs. “and i just…”

Sans’ voice broke, an unusual sound to Papyrus. Normally, when Sans was upset it manifested as a kind of mania. He’d seem almost cheerful as he ruined himself, scrapping as his own bones until the lights went off. The he’d laugh. He’d laugh and murmur incoherently in the dark until eventually all the words faded and the night was punctuated by the dull, familiarly rhythmic thumping.

When Sans was angry, that was when his eyes went dark. Sometimes it would happen for just an instant, Papyrus noticed, when The Doctor asked for him instead of Sans. He saw it in other contexts like that, where The Doctor or one of The Others did something Sans really didn’t like. The only time the empty stare had been directed at him was the last time they’d talked about this topic.

“i don’t understand.” Sans finished feebly. Any remnants of resentment or anger towards Sans faded in an instant, replaced by heartache, and Papyrus moved beside his brother and put an arm around him. He didn’t want to speak, even though Sans had just asked him a question. Normally, when he spoke it just upset Sans more.

“why did you think that, pap? why is the monster acting this way?”

Papyrus didn’t reply. He felt so small next to his brother now, useless for any comfort. What could he do? Sans knew everything, it seemed, to the child, even if sometimes they disagreed on what certain things meant. They’d already had this argument many times since they’d escaped. Half the time Papyrus thought Sans was right, that none of the monsters were nice, and that he was just being too optimistic, but he always claimed Sans was wrong because it was something they both needed.

Sans wrapped his arms around Papyrus and pulled him close, “pap, please… can you explain?”

“I THOUGHT…” Papyrus got stuck again, but continued on with the sentence once he got it straightened out, “THAT THERE HAD TO BE NICE MONSTERS BECAUSE OF THE STORIES YOU TOLD ME.”

“what?”

“THE STORIES THE DOCTOR HAD YOU READ. THE MONSTERS IN THEM WERE ALWAYS NICE, AND-”

“those were just stories, though!” Sans interrupted, in an unusually emotive manner.

“BUT THEY HAD TO COME FROM SOMEWHERE, AND I THOUGHT THAT THE PLACE THEY CAME FROM HAD TO HAVE NICE MONSTERS.”

San was dead silent, and Papyrus sensed not to interrupt, “sometimes the doctor told nice stories, too, but he wasn’t nice.”

Papyrus wrinkled his brow, “I DON’T REMEMBER THE DOCTOR TELLING ANY STORIES.”

Sans didn’t answer, but his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. Papyrus was abandoned in the silence and confusion of the moment. He didn’t understand what Sans wanted. He was almost relieved to hear The Monster coming down the stairs, prompting Sans to release him. When he looked back at Sans, Papyrus saw the other boy rubbing his eyes quickly before his gaze went to The Monster.

\-----

The Monster’s gaze rested on the children for only a moment before he gave a quick wave and disappeared into the kitchen. Sans was grateful for his quick disappearance, the front of his skull feeling heavy and painful from his suppressed tears. He had to intentionally prevent himself from tearing at his loose hand plate, knowing that the pain associated was a little too sharp for him to manage even though he desperately craved the familiar sensation. Experimentally, he tried switching hands, but there was something _wrong_ about that, defeating the purpose of the exercise.

Part of Sans wanted to ask Papyrus more, but his younger brother was already working on another drawing. He couldn’t see his face, but Sans already felt guilty for distressing him again, and besides, he didn’t know where precisely The Monster was and didn’t want him to overhear. With a sigh, he moved close to a piece of furniture to prop himself up with and watched Papyrus. 

A sense of exhaustion started to settle over him, unsurprising, considering how much magic he had spent teleporting away from The Monster earlier, and he welcomed it. The idea of sleep seemed very attractive, letting his headache run its course while he was in the warm depths of unconsciousness. That was how he survived a lot of his life in the laboratory, by sleeping. There wasn’t much else to do, and sometimes he’d have dreams about the outside world or The Echos. Occasionally, however, it backfired. Even in sleep he wasn’t safe from The Doctor.

As he felt the strands of magic tightening his neck loosen and his head start to lull, Sans’ sluggishly admitted to himself that in the very least The Monster’s house was more comfortable then the laboratory had been. The tips of his distals dragged through the lavish carpet slowly as his body relaxed, and even the side of the chair he was resting on had a thin padding over it, cushioning the ridges of his spine. It was warm, too, and-

Sans heard the sliding door of The Monster’s room role open smoothly beside him and jumped, adrenaline rousing him quickly. He looked up and over to the monster, blinking with surprise at his sudden appearance. He hadn’t sensed The Monster pass him and was certain that he would have – he hadn’t even fallen asleep yet, and even if he had he wasn’t comfortable enough here to do anything more than doze. A thought hit him, and his eyes widened – what if The Monster could teleport as well?

The Monster looked down at Sans and he panicked a bit, watching as a small frown and other mixed emotions played over The Monster’s face. He looked confused and sad at the same time, then as though he were in pain for a moment, before he met Sans’ eyes and he smiled. He was good at smiling. If he hadn’t known better, Sans would’ve thought it was a real expression.

“What’s up?” The Monster asked in a calm voice, and Sans swiveled his head back instantly.

“the ceiling,” he answered.

The Monster snorted, and Sans shrunk back, watching The Monster with an almost comic amount of distrust. What had he done now? At his expression, The Monster reacted with a clearer, more distinct chuckle. Not uproarious laughter by any means, but hearty, and as Sans processed this information he felt his expression shift slightly into something more pleasant. The first time he heard it, he had been in too dark a place to appreciate the noise, thinking it had more of a strange quality than anything else. Now, even though he was still tense, he could appreciate the warmth of the noise. The Monster’s laugh wasn’t as good as Papyrus’, but then, nothing was as good as Papyrus.

Sans’ eyes slid down and away from The Monster, feeling both better now, and worse because he felt better. The Monster could fake a laugh… Maybe. The Scientist had tried to, but had never done it well enough that Sans couldn’t hear the difference. So he Monster could be faking, but then again, why would he? That was the problem. Sans couldn’t figure out The Monster’s reason for any of this.

“No… Not literally, Sans. I meant why you were looking at me like that and how you and Papyrus are doing, not what was above you. That was pretty funny, though, kid.”

Sans frowned, but not deeply, more considering then upset. These questions were harder than the first one, and he wasn’t sure what some of the words meant, like funny. The Monster liked questions a lot, though, and he was realizing he would have to get used to them. He got to ask his own, too, and that was… He wasn’t sure what that was. Nice wasn’t a strong enough word for it, and freedom was a thing, not used for describing things.

“you startled me,” he started, “that’s why I looked at you “like that”, because you weren’t where you were supposed to be... what is ‘kid’? The otter kept calling me that.”

“It’s like child, but more familiar. You know what child is, right?”

\-----

Sans nodded in response and Grillby felt a little guilty. He didn’t know how to walk the line between being informative and condescending with these kids. Sans had already shown he was quite the junior mathematician in Grillby’s mind, but they lacked to much basic knowledge it was enough to drive the elemental insane. Behind Sans, Papyrus had put down his drawing supplies again and crawled the short distance to them so that he could set a hand on Sans’ back. Papyrus looked up at Grillby and the elemental smiled automatically, and the child returned the expression easily.

“How are you, Papyrus?”

“GOOD,” The boy responded, “I DREW ANOTHER PICTURE I WANT TO SHOW YOU.”

“Oh, really? I’d love to see it.” Grillby responded, letting out a slow sigh as he sunk to the floor. Sans scooted away, but only a little, just enough that the elemental didn’t brush against him. Meanwhile, Papyrus searched through the papers, and, finding what he wanted, held it up for Grillby to see.

“What is it?” Grillby asked when the skeleton didn’t immediately offer an explanation.

“IT’S YOU,” Papyrus said. He suddenly seemed a bit more timid, and Grillby reached out to take the picture from him carefully. Bringing it intimately close to his face, Grillby took off his glasses and squinted at the drawing, as was his habit with something he wanted to examine in detail.

The first thing he noticed about the rough depiction of himself were the shadows drawn in black, reminiscent of the cooling surface of lava, outlining the borders of his core very faintly. Papyrus had been careful drawing this, an amount of detail put in it anomalous to the child’s previous abilities. The next thing he realized was how huge he was in the picture, taking up the entire page with only the upper portion of his body. The picture of Sans, meanwhile, was mostly blank space…

“Wow,” Grillby said, the part of him that was honestly touched vastly out massing his other, more ominous emotions, “Thank you so much, Papyrus. This is excellent.”

“WHAT DOES “THANK YOU” MEAN?”

Grillby moved the picture and put his glasses on, wanting to be able to make proper eye contact with the child before explaining.

“It’s a way of showing appreciation when someone does something nice for you.”

Papyrus tilted his head, as though considering, and beside him Sans made a strange little strangled noise. Grillby looked at him, and saw that the boy had a bitter look on his face, as though he was faced with another plate of vegetables. He wasn’t looking at Grillby or his brother, but off to the side, as though avoiding sight of the exchange.

“What is it, Sans?” Grillby asked, his stomach dropping. Moments ago he’d seen the boy smile at him for the first time and regretted deeply how quickly that positivity had faded. What had happened?

The skeleton’s eye lights flowed smoothly to Grillby’s face, then down to the floor again, “nothing.”

Grillby was about to say that it was obviously something when Papyrus interrupted his train of thought with a chipper shout, “THANK YOU!”

Grillby looked over sharply, startled. His flames brightened momentarily, a flicker of blue emerging from his usual yellow-orange glow, a sort of blush or sign of positive surprise as he processed what the child had said. A spark of affection spreading through his core. He opened his mouth slightly, then closed it, thinking about what precisely he wanted to say. 

“What are you thanking me for?” He asked gently.

Papyrus shrugged, his smile shrinking a little. He looked at his brother, then the crayons, and wrapped one of his arms around him, gripping his own side through the thin fabric.

“Papyrus?”

The boy’s eyes met his and Grillby saw the look of concern hidden deep within the white pupils.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything I’ve done so far, okay? You and Sans deserve everything I’ve tried to give you so far. And more, for that matter…” 

Grillby paused to watch the child’s eyes, which shown like small LEDS in the pits of his eye sockets. They were unwavering, much like his expression which was stuck with a timid, borderline fearful smile, as though he were ashamed of something. Grillby then looked at Sans, finding the boy to still be staring at the floor. He realized he was being stupid pushing the issue, and reminded himself that no matter what the boys were going to be safe now. Between himself and the Royal Guard, they were going to find whoever did this and… Well, he hoped that the Royal Guard found them first.

Grillby pushed that thought away very quickly. He hadn’t had thoughts of real violence in years. The realization that he would entertain the notion now, no matter how justified, sickened him a little.

“Hey,” he said after a moment, “did you ever look at any of these other toys? I think you’d like them.”

He leaned over with a grunt and picked up an abandoned toy car and showed it to Papyrus.

“Do you know what this is?”

The boy shook his head.

“It’s a car. Humans use them to move around on the surface. They get inside, and then they can drive anywhere they want to go.”

“why?”

Grillby looked at Sans, but gave no response, hoping the boy would elaborate.

“why do they use a car to travel?”

“Because the surface is a very big place,” Grillby said. “Much bigger than the underground.”

“is _that_ why monsters want to go to it so badly?”

“One of the reasons,” Grillby said, taken aback by the boy’s tone. He sounded disgusted or angry or sad, Grillby couldn’t tell which, exactly. Grillby didn’t understand why, so he tried to answer the question as best he could. “But there are others, too. The sky, for instance, and the sun… Fresh air. Wind and weather and storms. We have some weather down here, thanks to the CORE, but nothing like what happens on the surface. The same is true of plants and animals, too. The surface has a lot more types of land then the underground, like deserts and rainforests and places where there are trees so big that you can build a house inside of them called redwoods. There’s so much green and so many types of flowers that people actually start killing them because they’re inconvenient, and there are more kinds of animals on the surface then kinds of monsters in the underground. Compared to the surface, the underground is very small, it’s like living in the same room all your life.”

“HOW MANY UNDERGROUNDS COULD YOU FIT IN THE SURFACE?” Papyrus asked, seemingly excited by the idea, “COULD A CAR TRAVEL OVER ALL OF IT?”

“I’m not sure, actually… Though it would be on, not in. The surface doesn’t have walls or a ceiling, it’s just open as far as the eye can see.” Grillby replied, “And a car can’t travel over water, so it can’t go everywhere on the surface. In fact, they’re limited to smoother terrain and roads that humans make.”

“WOW-OW!” Papyrus said, his stammer distorting the exclamation though the boy hardly seemed to notice, “WHAT’S TERRAIN?”

“Ground.”

“OH!”

Grillby noticed that Sans had drawn in on himself and handed the toy car to Papyrus, who seemed hesitant to take it at first, and handled it delicately once if was in his grasp. 

“You could make a drawing of what you think the surface looks like,” Grillby suggested, “then pretend the car is driving over it?”

“PRETEND?”

“Imagine.”

“OKAY!” Papyrus turned to crawl over to the Crayons before stopping, and said hesitantly, “THANK YOU?”

Grillby smiled softly, “No problem, Papyrus.”

Once the younger boy started scribbling, he moved so that he had a better look at Sans, who seemed again to shrink back from his gaze. Grillby frowned, and caught himself just before he tried to reach out to the child.

“What’s wrong, Sans?”

The child shrugged, and Grillby sighed. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Sans was quiet for a long time, and Grillby thought he wouldn’t get an answer when Sans quietly admitted, “…scared.”

“Ah…” Grillby thought about the conversation a bit, and the boy’s behavior. He curled in on himself a lot, and pushed himself against things and into corners. Under the table. “Do open spaces scare you?”

Sans shrugged again without comment, and Grillby got a quick idea. Standing up, he grabbed the discarded blankets off of the couch and rearranged some of the furniture, grabbing his footrest and rotating his chair before tossing the blanket over both. It fell a little short of what he was imagining, so he went to the kitchen and retrieved the spare dining chair from its place of rest next to the refrigerator. Using it to make the tent taller and wider, he surveyed his work with a small sense of accomplishment, though noted in the back of the mind that he could do better. Maybe he would, he told himself, if the kids took a liking to this sort of thing.

Turning, he noticed both Sans and Papyrus staring at him. Sans still looked uncomfortable, while Papyrus gripped a crayon in his hand and wore an inquisitive expression. Feeling a bit mischievous with pent up energy at this point, and hoping to coax another smile from Sans, Grillby silently crouched down and backed himself into the dome. He tried very hard to keep a straight face, but it broke as Papyrus dropped to all fours in order to see him beneath the canopy. 

He snickered and waved, meanwhile wondering to himself when the hell these sort of things got so small. Alone, he felt cramped in it, and couldn’t imagine being beneath here with both children as well, not with the current rule of trying not to touch them. With a mixture of amusement and disappointment, he removed himself, and stood on him knees before gesturing to the tent.

“Would either of you like to take command of the fort?” He asked, getting blank stares in return.

Grillby’s smile faded a bit. He had warm memories of playing with his boys in creations like this, though back then he had been the one being taught how to play. Never having his own childhood, he had turned out to be one of those all-too-involved fathers, doting and eager to indulge in all his children’s games. It was his first chance to experience the wonder of childhood, something he had been denied as both a first generation elemental and as one born for war.

For her part, Tisi had put up with his surprising childishness amazingly well. She’d always liked him because he was a pushover, someone surprisingly sweet and sentimental despite his initial businesslike appearance and obsession with organization. That didn’t mean that she didn’t ridicule him occasionally. Tisi often claiming she had four children, and very prove not just to taking, but spreading compromising photographs of Grilly attending his daughter’s imaginary affairs. 

Often he had a choice between pretending to be her pet dragon or being the queen, as she loved to pretend she was a warrior princess who ran around the kingdom catching bad guys. Being the dragon took more energy at the end of the day, since the dragon had to run around with the princess while the queen got to stay in the castle, and after he had already worked on his feet for many hours sitting on the couch for a while often sounded like a good idea. Besides, if he was the queen sometimes Etney could convince her brothers to be her pet dragon, and then nearly the entire family could play together without complaint. Ironically, this resulted quite regularly in Tisi pretending to be the games’ king character when she wasn’t one of the bad guys. This was because Tisi worked the night shift, allowing her to watch the kids during the bar’s busiest hours during dinnertime, but at work or asleep when he and the kids were playing. Etney insisted that the queen was much more important than the king, so Grillby played the queen regularly, and once the president was set he was stuck wearing a set of plastic clip-on earrings and a tiara even when his wife was sitting next to him. Tisiphone wasn’t even reliably forced to wear the king’s beard!

Ultimately, this conflicting schedule was another one of the small factors that had led to their divorce. They had been a happy couple, with a few old fights that repeated over and over again, the way these things do. Tisi was hot headed and judgmental, prone to taking a liking to an idea and not only doing it, but expecting Grillby’s full support, while Grillby was emotionally distant and a constant nag when things didn’t meet his standards in perfection. Normally their fights were brief, often leading to a long and much needed conversation between the two abut whatever issue had incited the incident, then branching out into the other factors of life. When they did get heated, however, their combined stubbornness could whirlwind out of control with surprising ease.

When the boys died, Grillby withdrew from his life as smoothly as though he’d never had it, working fewer hours in the back of the grill and allowing himself to fall into a deep depression. He pulled away from Tisiphone, leaving her not only emotionally abandoned herself, but alone in caring for Etney, who was young and at times didn’t seem to understand the situation. Grillby knew she did though. Etney always did. It was one of the things he didn’t understand about culture in general, that relatively common need to treat children as if they were either stupid or pets…

Now trying to play with Sans and Papyrus, he felt a certain unease in his soul replacing his earlier excitement. They were staring at him like he was insane, and honestly Grillby didn’t feel like that would be a false claim if they voiced it. He pushed himself the rest of the way up and was about to think of an excuse to leave the room when a sharp series of knocks on the door interrupted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm just going to leave this Gif here for your amusement...  
>   
> Also, have I shown you guy this cool version of Grillby yet? http://lord-october.deviantart.com/art/Undertale-Grillby-577727180


	21. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumb bunny. Doggo, just deal, would you? Or go hug Papyrus. Both of you really need a hug right now. For once Grillby's emotions are pretty alright in this chapter. Also, I guess Sans prefers butterscotch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this fic is going through another HUGE edit. Just look at the first five chapters! :-D
> 
> Next chapter might not be posted for as long as the end of the month, but I will try to work on it as much as I can without sacrificing my finals grades. That's kind of why this has been posted, even though **this is very much a rough draft**. Like, literally **this chapter will be edited** quite a bit before I post the next one.
> 
> Thank all you loves for reading, once again. You're support on this one stupid thing in my life gives me the will to work on all of my goals, realizing that I'm not a completely worthless sack of bones so long as I can entertain for just one person for just one chapter.

The boy’s reactions were instantaneous, and in a mere moment there were huddled besides each other, half hiding behind the couch. Grillby thought to comfort them, but his words seemed to have little effect before another cluster of raps caused the boys to flinch again. Whoever it was, they had an irritating lack of patience.

“Just a moment!” Grillby called, kneeling besides the children.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he reassured them again, before hurrying over to the door. He opened it just as the monster on the other side was about to knock again, startling her with his abrupt appearance. Doggo was behind her, and it appeared the two had been having a discussion moments ago, before Grillby opened the door.

“There you are, Grillby!” exclaimed the twiggy-looking female rabbit. Then, with the fierce and unjustified indignant tone only a supremely immature 20-somethng year old can muster, gestured at Doggo and said, “This brute was trying to keep me from seeing you!”

“Hello Bunny,” Grillby said with a sinking feeling, “Now really isn’t a good time, I’m afraid.”

“Nonesense!” Bunbun said, her artificially high voice grating on his eardrums a little as she attempted to push past him and into his house, “Also, you know I go by Bunbun now.”

“Bunbun, no-” Grillby said, barely grabbing the rabbit monster by the forearm before she was far enough in to see the hiding children. She rounded on him, a startled look on her face that rapidly turned to a kind of poorly contained fury.

“Grillby,” She started, yanking her arm free from his grip, “No one has seen you in nearly a week and you have Royal Guards standing post outside your house! Everyone is talking about it, and there’s a rumor that you had a doctor here. I want to know what the heck is happening! Are you in trouble? Are you okay? I mean, how did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine, Bunbun,” Grillby said, his thin veil of polite rapidly deteriorating, “I don’t have time to explain right now-”

“There was a tree that the guards had to take down because it was all burned! Do you know that? Did you _do_ that?”

“Yes, but-”

“ _And_ just a few days ago, Mrs. Fiddlehead, you know what she said? She said that she saw you come out of your house and-”

“Bunbun, get out of my house.” Grillby said with remarkable composure.

“What? Grillby, I-”

“ _Out. Now._ ” Grillby’s voice didn’t get much louder than his conversational tones, but it had gone freakishly stony. Something about the cold voice coming from the usually warm and pleasant elemental made the pale brown rabbit pause for just a moment, long enough for Grillby to push her gently through the door, Doggo offering a small apologetic glance.

“Bunbun,” He said, his voice normalizing smoothly, “I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. Something has come up and I’m probably not going to be around much for the next few days. Yes, there is a legal component involved, but I am not in trouble. As for my injuries, I ended up getting rather soaked helping the guards after a cave in, but I am doing better now. At some point, I’ll explain in more detail, but _now_ is _not_ a good time.”

Bunbun’s nose wrinkled and he could tell she wasn’t convinced. Before she had a chance to say anything more, he started closing the door.

“Grillby, wait!” Bunbun sounded exasperated. Against his better judgement, the elemental paused with a sigh. He stretched, rubbed the back of his neck, and opened the door halfway with his body blocking the entrance. He fixed Bunny with an expression that wasn’t quite a glare, but also wasn’t far short of one.

“Aunt Babette sent these for you…” She said, offering him a small package of cinnamon bunnies, “You know that she, Bailey, and Bonnie have a long standing competition, and they want you to help judge who’s the better cook since you’re the local culinary expert.”

“Thank you,” Grillby said, taking the offered sweets from the rabbit, “And thank your aunt and sisters for me, too.”

“Yeah, I will.” Bunny said flatly. 

Her voice was lower now, and Grillby noticed that her eyes had the dewy look of someone trying to hold back tears. He felt his core tighten at the realization, knowing the young woman probably had been honestly concerned for his wellbeing, but also that he couldn’t make any amends now without her invading his house against his wishes and probably upsetting the children considerably. A lot of the Haas side of the Hass-Conill family was unreasonably loud and prone to eclecticism that bordered on psychosis, and they had a habit of being overly involved in other people’s business. As Bunny moved away from the door, Grillby frowned, but reminded himself that as quick as Bunny was to upset, she was just as quick to forgive.

Grillby closed the door behind her and turned before leaning against it. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was forgetting something and rubbed his temples again. Groaning, he opened his eyes to find the skeleton’s peering at him from behind the couch. Papyrus moved out from behind it first, Sans’ hand trying to grab him from behind the couch to stop him, but Papyrus continued forward. Sans peered out a little more, seemingly debating whether to try to grab his brother again or not, before he saw Grillby looking at him and drew back, his face barely visible behind the couches’ armrest.

“WHO-O WAS THAT?” Papyrus asked, seeming remarkably calm for a child who had been huddled in a corner moments ago.

“One of my neighbor’s sisters. They’re worried about me since I haven’t gone to work for a few days.”

“WAS SHE A RABIT WOMAN?”

“Yes,” Grillby said, wondering where this was going.

“SHE WASN’T AS GOOD AS THE OTHER ONE.”

“Which other one?”

“THE ONE I SAW WHEN SANS WAS SICK,” Papyrus said, “SHE WAS BIGGER, THOUGH, AND LESS NOISEY. SHE CALLED ME SWEETHEART AND LAUGHED A LOT, BUT REALLY QUIETLY, SORT OF LIKE YOU DO BUT DIFFERENT? AND SHE GAVE ME SOMETHING TO EAT THAT WAS REALLY GOOD…”

The boy wrinkled his eyebrow ridge and looked down, his tone passing from one of cheerful story-telling to uncertainty, “N-NOT AS GOOD AS THE FOOD YOU MAKE, THOUGH.” 

Grillby looked down at the cinnamon bunnies in his hand, then back to Papyrus. The boy had to be talking about Babette, based on that description, which meant he’d been given a cinnamon bunny… The dirty liar. Still, Grillby smiled to himself. This meant the sugary treats would be perfect for after dinner.

“I see,” Grillby said, “Bunny means well, but I agree that she is a little loud, at times.”

He looked at the children again. Sans was timidly making his way out from behind the furniture and closer to Papyrus, and he was glad to see that while obviously nervous, the boy hadn’t resumed his previous self-injury. Reassured that the children were alright, Grillby turned away to glance through the window, where he watched as Doggo walked back to a nearby trampled region of snow to stand post, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed the dog there before.

“Hey, boys?” He said, before turning back to the skeletons, “What would you think of playing for a few minutes while I make dinner, and then taking a bath? If you like, you can play a little after that, but you should probably go to bed early since you’re still recovering.”

As ever, he got weak affirmatives in response. A few minutes later, and their next meal was already cooking. Grillby glanced through the kitchen window to see Doggo still standing outside, fur ruffling in the breeze. Preparing a hot drink, he checked on the children to find them playing in much the same manner they had been all day, before heading outside. Even approaching from behind, it didn’t take long for Doggo to notice Grillby and turn, to which the elemental held out the warm mug.

“Here,” he said, “You know if you want to come inside instead of stand out here in the cold you’d be welcome.”

“Thanks,” Doggo responded, taking the offered drink gratefully, “I’m worried about upsetting the kids, though.”

Grillby shrugged, “They need to get used to socializing.”

“Then why were you so terse with Bunny?”

“Bunny’s… Bunny.” Grilby said simply.

“Well, ‘Bunbun’, now, I guess. Careful about that, she’s surprisingly fierce when crossed and easily crossed. Honestly, though, Bunny doesn’t really listen or respect boundaries. I’m prone to think that she probably wouldn’t realize to back off if she did upset the kids, and that’s what I was more worried about. Not that she’d have any malice, of course.”

“Ah,” Doggo said, then, “Grillby, how dangerous are they?”

The elemental sighed and rubbed his neck.

“Honestly, Doggo, I’m not quite sure. What brings this up?”

“The area around the burnt tree was pretty wrecked, Grillz. And, you know-” Doggo gave a little wave with his wrist, drawing attention to the arm Sans had broken.

“They’re harmless,” Grillby said, “I mean, they certainly don’t have any bad intent… I think. They were just very frightened.”

“You think?”

“I mean I know.” Grillby said, becoming slightly defensive. “They’ve calmed down a lot since then and everything seems to be going fine. I mean, I’m out here, right? They’re drawing right now… Seem to really like the colors…”

Doggo nodded, twitching his ears at how that was phrased before giving Grillby an affirmative, “Alright.”

It seemed like the conversation was over, the younger monster shifting uncomfortably.

“Doggo, they’re just children…” Grillby said, breaking the silence, “What would happen if we considered them dangerous?”

“I don’t know, Grillby. It was a stupid question.” The dog shrugged, “I’m just still rattled that a kid nearly got dusted yesterday, on top of everything else that’s been going on. I mean, I’ve lived in this town my whole life and Snowdin has always been a quiet town. Then these past few months things keep happening – little things, don’t get me wrong – but then in the course of a week the entire guard here, not to mention a civilian, nearly dies in a cave in, then two vagrant children show up and nearly get themselves killed on top of it? I mean, what were those moldsmal even doing out on ice? Grillz, I…”

Doggo’s composure had slowly deteriorated as he spoke, and his last few words were almost frantic. He had paused now, seeming to try to regain control. Grillby blinked, surprised at Doggo’s sudden ramble, and, to a lesser extent, the realization that he was a civilian to the guard. 

“I don’t know if I made the right choice becoming a guard.” He finished finally.

Grillby thought about it for a moment, then asked, “Why did you become one?”

Doggo sighed. “Do you want the official story, or the truth?”

“Both.”

“The official story is that I want to help people and that I wanted to do good by my parents. You knew my parents, so you know how proud they were of their service and the kind of work they did. Real service dogs, you know?”

“And the truth?”

“Well,” Doggo paused, “Don’t get me wrong, I do want to help people, but honestly… Honestly I don’t think I’d be good at anything else. This is what my family’s been doing for generations, all the way back to the war, this is all we know. And with my eyes… What else can I really expect to do except be lookout?”

“I see.”

The two men were silent for a while. Eventually, Grillby shifted, and moved to head back to the house.

“No advice, huh?” Doggo said.

“You’ll figure it out,” Grillby replied, “You’re a good monster… You, uh, coming in?”

Doggo shook his head, ears half-massed, “Nah, I think I’m good out here.”

\---

Sans watched Grillby from the window as The Monster turned away from the dog. He felt ill, and shivered, a slow, cold feeling spreading through him. He knew what was going on. They were being guarded. The dogs were watching him again.

As The Monster approached the door, Sans shifted to join his brother immediately. He started to fiddle with his hand plate, desperate for something to keep him from falling apart and ignoring the increased pain. He didn’t really mind; he deserved it. He had disobeyed. He had run away.  
He deserved it. It was fine. He deserved it.

He was starting to hyperventilate, but didn’t notice until Papyrus scooted close to him and wrapped him in a tight, secure hug. He looked at the younger child and was torn between hugging him back and pushing him away. He was about to give him a solid shove when, behind him, he heard the door open, and froze, holding his breath. He could hear The Monster paused in the doorway, but after a second he moved through to the kitchen.

Sans started breathing again. He tried to breathe slower so that The Monster didn’t hear him panting and get angry, but it was difficult. He kept swallowing. It felt like something was blocking his air. He looked down and saw Papyrus’ face, pressed against the foreign fabric that The Monster had put him in. Sans focused on Papyrus. He had to be good so that Papyrus was safe.

Sans didn’t know how long they sat like that, both motionless, only that it was long enough for him to flinch when Papyrus finally moved again. The younger child kept one arm wrapped around him as he steadily moved his other arm downwards. He grabbed hold of Sans’ hand and tried, gently, to pull it away from the other. Sans refused, gripping the hand plate. Now that he could wriggle the tips of his fingers beneath it, he could make it so that Papyrus’ efforts led directly to what he was trying to prevent. It didn’t take long before Papyrus gave up, wrapping Sans in a tighter hug then before. He was quiet.

“Sans, Papyrus, what’s wrong?”

Sans’ breathing hitched, and he focused on staying silent. Papyrus, meanwhile, slowly uncoiled himself from his brother and turned to look at The Monster. Everyone was still for a few moments, then Sans heard the monster approaching from behind. With a jolt, he stood up and took a couple quick steps away, wanting to hide, wanting not to exist, but stopping. He had to be good.

Sans forced himself to turn and face The Monster and looked at the floor. Papyrus did the same, stumbling, but steady once he was standing still.

“What happened?” The Monster asked. He approached them slowly, his flickering mass towering above the two children. Sans coiled his hands into fists, Papyrus shifting awkwardly in the corner of his vision, and Sans silently pleaded that he stayed silent.

“SANS IS SCARED,” Papyrus said, betraying them both. He should know better, Sans thought. Scared didn’t matter. 

At the statement, though, The Monster crouched down. Sans hated it when big monsters did this, because they always did it when they were about to tell him lies. Besides, it made them look predatory, like they were ready to pounce with their legs gathered below them. The Monster did it a bit differently, actually dropping to his knees instead of keeping the coiled mass of his legs ready below him, then sat on his own calves. While the elemental could still get up quickly, the stance obviously prevented him from lunging forward, and even through his fear Sans wondered what he was up to.

“Sans?” Inquired The Monster softly, “Why are you scared? It’s not because of Bunny, is it? Because she’s gone now…”

Sans shook his head. What would The Monster do if he knew Sans knew what the dogs were doing? Searching for any logical reason that wouldn’t anger The Monster, he claimed, “i thought i heard something… in the kitchen…”

That much wasn’t a lie. There had been a shattering sound nearly as soon as The Monster had left, but so long as they were far away from it the boys had grown used to the sounds of destruction. Very occasionally, The Doctor would get frustrated at something unrelated to them, and instead of turning to his normal cool and calculating punishment, he would fly into a hot rage. Nothing in the laboratory was safe, and it was one of these episodes that got rid of the first of The Others.

“Oh,” The Monster said, then with recognition, “Oh, damn it.”

He started to stand, then stopped, and knelt again. His body language was torn, and Sans could tell he didn’t know what to do. Sans felt that way all the time, and it was regularly apparent in his brother as well, but it was still odd and satisfying to see those emotions in a monster, as he had only seen The Doctor display them occasionally and when Sans had been very young.

“Why did that freak you out so much?” The Monster asked, “Were you afraid I was going to blame you for something?”

Going along with it, Sans nodded. This was easier than he expected, and novel.

“You shouldn’t be afraid. Even if you were to break something, well…” The Monster paused, “It wouldn’t matter, alright? Unless you did it intentionally. Accidents happen all the time – I mean, I certainly just made one. That’s got to be my third teapot this year, and I don’t actually drink tea. Do you understand?”

Sans didn’t, but nodded anyway. Next to him, Papyrus shifted from leg to leg, and once again Sans hoped he stayed silent. This time the younger child did, and Sans relaxed greatly after The Monster left, rising slowly but rushing to the kitchen once he was a few steps away from the children. The Monster didn’t know. The Monster had believed him. The implications washed over Sans in a glorious wave as he listened to the faint sounds of broken glass or ceramic being cleaned up, before The Monster returned.

“Dinner’s ready,” He said.

\---

Papyrus took a shaky step towards the kitchen, making a bit of a show of how unsteady he was. That way, Sans would help him. He didn’t know the real reason Sans had been so upset, but did know that it had nothing to do with the teapot. It was strange to realize his brother was lying to The Monster. He didn’t think either of them had lied to The Doctor, at least not more than once or twice. They couldn’t. Somehow, he always knew, and when he did...

Papyrus turned himself away from that thought as he felt a bit of fear rise in him. What if Sans was right about The Monster? He had been really nice so far, and hadn’t demanded anything back like The Doctor had, but what would he do when he was angry? He felt the edge of panic and bit it down. It was time for more food, and Papyrus’ appetite was similar to that of a black hole, so he focused on the immediate meal.

He felt true relief when his brother was next to him, supporting him as they headed to the kitchen. Papyrus didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he was constantly afraid. He’d gotten good at ignoring his own fear, but it was always there, lurking beneath the surface. Things always got worse when he let it show. Sans got worse. And when Sans was bad, he didn’t have anything good left…

At least, not when they had been in the laboratory. Things hadn’t exactly improved after they left, but they were different, less constant in the very least. The first few days had been really hard, because The Doctor had been chasing them and they were never able to rest for long, knowing that if they stopped they would be dusted or worse. Papyrus still felt incredible guilt over what he had witnessed, made worse by the fact that Sans simply would not believe him.

Getting Sans to leave the building had been almost impossible, too, but after how close they had come both children had known that this would be their last chance, ever, to escape. In the end, Papyrus knew it had been him that had taken the lead once they reached the doorway. If Sans had been alone, he just would’ve stood frozen until The Doctor caught him, staring at the empty expanse. But Papyrus allowed his fear to show then, triggering his older brother to take action.

They had ran until they were both exhausted, and even then walked on. After a few days, hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion all caught up to them, and they had resorted to breaking into someone’s house without even fully understanding the concept.

With the dust they had after that, Sans had made him fake his own death. His hands hurt just with the memory, and he wondered how Sans could stand to pry at his own hand plates without the same reasoning behind it. Every time a metallic ting rang out, it made Papyrus cringe with the recollection of the horrid sensation. He wished Sans would stop.

After that, The Doctor had stopped chasing them, but people in armor started. It wasn’t as bad though, because no one had seen them or seemed to know what they were looking for. After they had left the area they were finally wandering unpursued. Despite this, they kept moving forward, hoping to find someplace free of monsters where they could remain, feeding themselves somehow… They had stayed a long time in Waterfall because of this dream, the hidden corners and darkness of the caverns allowing them to remain there for many, many days. Weeks, he thought, remembering what The Monster had told Sans. Months? Eventually, though, they gained enough attention from the locals that it become difficult to stay there unspotted.

He had known back then that Sans was ready to give up, but refused to let him. So long as he kept needing Sans, he knew his brother would provide. He _knew_ it. And so far, it had been true.

For all the difficulties of the underground, Papyrus had maintained it was better than the laboratory. In the very least, there were more things to look at, and on the days when they had already found food the two were able to do nothing for as long as they wanted to without fear of being separated, so long as they kept one step ahead of monsters who weren’t even actively hunting for them. And even as trash, the food had been better… Most of the time. In some ways, Papyrus had nearly delighted in the rotten things he’d found purely for how disgusting they were. Nothing in the laboratory had been that intense except for The Doctor, and at least food never _meant_ to hurt you.

His blanket had made everything better. The comfort of truly soft fabric was foreign to both children, and when they laid it over the tall, cushioning grass of Waterfall, they could lay on it in what was, to them, bliss. And once they moved on to Snowdin, it was their only source of warmth, save each other.

Being in The Monster’s house was strange. They were being treated so nicely that even Papyrus had to have the occasional suspicious thought. However, while Sans had done nothing but avoid and ignore the monsters, Papyrus had taken to watching them. How could he not? They were interesting, and had so many shapes and colors he could barely believe it. A lot of what was outside of the laboratory he couldn’t believe, and he reveled in it. 

Watching them, he had realized that they were different than the ones in the laboratories, and treated each other with compassion, just like in the stories Sans told him. The scientists had never done that, and especially not The Doctor, not even to each other. He didn’t find it so odd that these good monsters from outside might treat things like them with similar respect, and three times now he had been proven right.

It was amazing how Sans’ demeanor had changed as they finally made it to the table. He was still nervous, Papyrus could tell, but it seemed like he had some revelation in the past few minutes that had reassured him. The meal was quiet and quick, and instead of eating with them, The Monster had gone straight to cleaning what dishes he had dirtied preparing the meal. Papyrus wondered if it was because The Monster knew how nervous he made Sans and was trying to give him room. Papyrus wouldn’t be surprised, after all, The Monster had called Papyrus out on his own fear earlier that day, though now this morning seemed as though it was an incredibly long time ago.

After they were done eating, the boys waiting patiently for some sign of guidance from the monster, Papyrus took again to looking around the room. The countertop was black, like the ones in the lab, but also different, its edges more rounded and its surface streaked with grays and whites. There were a few decorations on the walls as well, and hooks jutting out to support various instruments. Now that he had watched The Monster a few times in this room, he felt more comfortable, especially knowing that The Monster’s entire purpose was to make food. Before, it hadn’t made sense to him. Why would anyone need an entire room for food making? But if that was his job, then it seemed reasonable.

Finally, The Monster approached them with two more small plates. Papyrus was surprised, since this had never happened before, and let out a startled little noise of delight when he saw what was on the plates. Looking up at The Monster with a smile, he once again pushed down his rising anxiety. Monsters like him could be nice, just like the stories, just like Sans.

The Monster smiled back, and left them, even going out of the kitchen. Papyrus watched him leave, then looked at Sans as he stared skeptically at the rabbit-shaped sweet before them. Papyrus wanted very badly to see Sans’ reaction, knowing that the heavenly taste had startled him when he had a keen enough nose to smell what was coming. He forced himself to wait, hands clicking against the tabletop impatiently until finally, Sans picked it up and brought it to his mouth.

Sans’ eyes lit up instantly as he bit through the soft crust of sugar that coated the bread, a little curve of a smile lighting his featured for a moment before he started chewing. Abruptly, the expression turned sour, pulling the rest of the rabbit away as he looked around franticly, eyes wide. Papyrus panicked at this reaction – What was wrong? And then Sans started choking, a combination of the strong flavor and his illness triggering an overwhelming coughing fit for a few moments. Papyrus reached out for him, concerned, not realizing that the worst of the reaction was already over until Sans straightened and looked at the bread accusatorily.

Papyrus sat back, both relieved and disappointed. Sans coughed a couple more times, then looked around the room, then to his brother, his eyebrow ridge creasing.

“pap, be careful…” he said, “it’s really… strong…”

Papyrus looked at his own rabbit with concern, poking it with one finger. It _looked_ the same type of food, but maybe it was different? He took the smallest of bites and smiled automatically and took another, larger bite. The flavor of pure happiness spread in his mouth. He looked up at Sans to find the other skeleton seemed mildly disgusted by his display.

“I… I LIKE IT.” Papyrus confessed, and Sans’ shrugged. He was picking up his own again, but didn’t bite into it, instead looking at the sweet carefully. Flaking a bit of the frosting off, he brought that to his mouth and closed his eyes.

“it’s not bad, but how can you just bite into it like that?” Sans asked.

“HOW CAN YOU NOT?” 

Sans blinked, and ignored him, flaking more of the sugary coating off and eating it. Papyrus decided his brother was beyond understanding once again, and happily devoured the rest of his treat. He regretted it afterward, having to watch as Sans slowly dissected his own for several torturous seconds.

\---

Noticing Papyrus had finished his, Sans stopped for a moment and considered the odd food he had in his hand. He couldn’t lie, the idea of keeping the treat for himself was tempting, but he knew he didn’t enjoy it as much as his younger sibling. The entire position he was in seemed strange to him, anyway, as he was very much full at this point, yet had been given more food. Strange food. Why did it look like a rabbit?

He looked back at Papyrus again. Considering the sweet, Sans determined which portion had the most icing on it before tearing it in apart and offering the younger child the larger portion, which suspiciously lacked most of the sugary substance, but Papyrus did not hesitate to take. 

When The Monster returned, Sans wondered if he would realize what had happened with the food and if it would get them in trouble. Apparently not, as The Monster simply stood, leaning against the counter top a short distance away until they were both finished. Then, he walked over and stooped to pick Papyrus up.

“Bath time,” he said, standing with the younger boy in one arm and simply reaching out his other hand to Sans. 

The boy took a moment to process what to do with it, then laid his wrist in it quickly. That was what The Doctor had always used to navigate them around the lab when they were in their bipedal form, that, or the back of the neck. The Monster pulled back casually, as though the gesture was unnoticed, and gently wrapped his fingers around Sans’ own. He took a step away from the chair, but moved in such a way that Sans’ was hardly pulled at all, waiting for the boy to stand. Sans did, and let himself be led through the now vaguely-familiar bedroom to the bathroom, where the air was hot and heavy with moisture and a herbal scent that he couldn’t help but find immensely pleasant.

Undressed, they were lowered into the water together by The Monster, who explained that the water now had some medications in it to help heal their wounds. Sans struggled to pay attention, though, his overwhelmed mind finally going blank after the incredibly eventful day. Papyrus was beside him, his motions transmitted through the water into a gentle, lulling wave, and even The Monster’s presence not as intimidating now that Sans had realized his eversion to the water he was surrounded by.

Suddenly, though, The Monster was wearing gloves and leaning over the water, and Sans snapped to attention, watching as he took one of Papyrus’ hands in his own. With a small brush, he started cleaning it gently, then gestured to other similar tools Sans hadn’t realized were lined in the edge of the tub. He considered them for a moment, then jumped with a bolt of concern when Papyrus made a small pained noise.

“I’m so sorry,” The Monster said, “Are you okay?”

“YES,” Papyrus replied, “IT WASN’T… I MEAN, I’M SORRY TO HAVE MADE A NOISE.”

The Monster frowned and went back to… To cleaning Papyrus’ hand. It still hurt, Sans realized, and fixated on even as he was lifted from the tub and The Monster spoke to him, telling him in great detail about the ointments he was about to apply and how, exactly, they would help him.

\---

Papyrus was still splashing happily in the tub when Grillby stopped applying the ointment, done with all of the easy to reach areas of the skeleton’s body, after which he set the small container on top of its lid next to the child. Sans didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what was going on anymore, so after a moment of no reaction, he passed his hand in front of the child’s face. Sans jerked a little, as if suddenly woken and looked around the small room, his eyes meeting Grillby’s for the barest of moments before immediately travelling to his brother.

“Are you alright, Sans?”

The boy didn’t answer for a few moments, still staring at his brother in the tub. He wore a distant expression then the dead neutrality or fake grin Grillby was used to, tinged with, if anything, shame. Eventually, he turned back to the elemental, his head angled down almost uncomfortably, considering his position relative to the monster. Grillby blinked, and, more out of curiosity than anything else, mimicked the child’s timid body language to see what would happen. Sans didn’t seem to notice at first, too busy staring at the floor.

“…yeah.”

Grillby struggled to look at the child without raising his head, “You sure?”

An even longer pause, then, “yes.”

Grillby didn’t look up, instead examining his bathroom tiles in greater detail. Even without being able to see him, he knew Sans had noticed his change in posture. The sharper, definite response betraying him. He glanced up, meeting the child’s gaze, before looking down again. Silence. 

Finally the boy asked, “what are you doing?”

“Getting irritated with myself that my grout is so grungy.”

“huh?”

“Nevermind.” 

Grillby looked up slowly, seeing if the child would hold his gaze. He didn’t.

“What are you doing?”

Sans shrugged.

“Does eye contact make you uncomfortable?”

The boy shrugged, but as the moments passed on, he provided, “sometimes.”

“I see.” Grillby stated simply, “I’m sorry… I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Sans’ eyebrow ridge creased, but otherwise he didn’t react.

“I’m going to start treating Papyrus. Can you finish up yourself?”

The skeleton nodded, and Grillby turned to the bathtub, grabbing the other towel as he did so.

“Time to get out, I’m afraid.” He said to Papyrus, who, after his previous experiences, stood straight and still as Grillby approached him. Wrapping the towel around the boy, the elemental grunted a little as he lifted, despite the skeleton’s surprisingly light weight. Sitting the boy on the toilet, he turned towards the tub and unplugged it cautiously. Grillby felt the skeleton’s eyes on him from behind, before he turned back to the children and put some of the ointment into his hand. Dabbing it on the child’s various bone anomalies, he was once again grateful that in the very least the younger child had suffered less damage over the years.

“WHY DOESN’T THE OINTMENT HURT YOU?”

“A few reasons,” Grillby responded, pleased at the unprompted conversation, “For one thing, there’s not much of it, and for another I know precisely where it is. I can hold things without burning them, and while it’s more difficult to keep liquids from harming me I can do it using the same general principle. All it takes is a little concentration and a lot of practice… My, um, niece, still struggles with it a bit.”

“WHAT’S A NEICE?”

“The daughter of your sibling… Though Fuku isn’t really my niece, I just call her that because we’re distantly related and any other term is either wordy or feels inaccurate.” He frowned a little, “Really, I guess I might as well just be a family friend, but there aren’t very many elementals in the underground these days.”

“WHAT DOES-” Papyrus cut off when Sans made a low groaning noise, and pouted at his older brother, his scowl rather comical.

\---

Despite The Monster asking him what he was about to say, Papyrus didn’t ask him another question that night while his injuries were treated. He was carried up the stairs while Sans went up himself, one of Grillby’s hands hovering a few inches behind his shoulders, prepared to catch the child if he fell. When they were up the stairs, The Monster crouched, and Papyrus gratefully wiggled out of his arms and latched on to his brother for support.

They all walked into the bedroom, and he and Sans immediately headed for the bed. The lower bed was just low enough that Papyrus didn’t struggle too much to get onto it. Sans just laid down immediately, stiffening as The Monster crouched besides the bed. Meanwhile, Papyrus was fiddled with one of the stuffed rabbits, and The Monster picked up the other rabbit, which was sitting on the floor. He offered it to Papyrus, who took it with a silent smile.

After a few moments of watching Papyrus petting and playing with the toys, The Monster spoke:

“What are their names?”

Papyrus looked up at him, but didn’t say anything, glancing sidelong at his brother. When Sans didn’t react, Papyrus asked in a uncharacteristically timid voice, “WHOSE NAMES?”

“Theirs.” He gestured to the rabbits.

“BUT… THEY’RE RABBITS.” Papyrus said, forgetting all caution in his surprise.

“They could still have names,” The Monster said.

“REALLY?”

“Well, sure. They could be pets or just… _have_ names.”

“WHAT’S A PET?”

“an animal that a monster keeps in their house.” Sans said, shifting slightly, “their job is to please the monster.”

The Monster made a little noise that Papyrus didn’t know how to take before speaking, “Not exactly, Sans. I mean, yes, but… A pet is supposed to be a companion, not something that you just use for your own benefit.”

“OH,” Papyrus said, then regarded his rabbits. “THEY HAVEN’T TOLD ME THEIR NAMES YET.”

“Let me know when they do.” The Monster gave a quick chuckle, the one that sounded like the rabbit woman, and stood, heading over to the door. He waited for Papyrus to settle himself near the window before turning off the light.

“Good night.” The Monster said, though neither boy replied.

Once the door was closed and The Monster’s steps receded down the hallway, Papyrus turn to the window. He didn’t stare out it for long, already feeling tired but content. The day had been completely draining, physically and mentally, but had ended on a high note that dominated his thoughts. 

Before he fell asleep, he asked, “Sans, are we The Monster’s pets?”

But the older monster had already fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...Papyrus’ appetite was similar to that of a black hole"
> 
> That is, endless, and spaghettifying.


	22. Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll ready for some shit, man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else noticed that whenever I'm like, "Gonna be a while before updates" I immeadaitely update? Egh. Anyway~ I might update tomorrow, I might update 3 weeks from now... But this is I chapter I really enjoyed writing. I hope I've earned you guy's trust enough that you know Gaster's bullshit does actually mean something. XD
> 
> Also, When talking to my beta today about the possibility of characters dying of old age, he said the following:  
> "Boss monsters don't age without a biological child, Undyne is Undying, and Metaton's a robot."  
> "Alphys?"  
> "Alphys is made of science. She will find a way."  
> Thanks for reading, loves.

Grillby cradled his head in his hands. He could hear his flames crackling around him as he shook. He wasn't out of control but he felt like it, his core swirling nauseously within him as his surface temperature rose, the air in his room turning stale and hot and moist like the breath of a trapped animal panting in panic. Surface save him, where the hell did that come from? He knew he was overreacting to it but he couldn't help feeling exposed, almost vulnerable with this fresh review of his past crimes.

The dream had started out almost pleasant, Grillby standing behind his younger self on a hillside overlooking a village. The view was glorious, particularly to someone who had been trapped in the underground for centuries. The green of the grass here was so intense, so alive, and the sky that incredible shade of blue that no crayon could ever quite capture. There were yellow fields by the village, dried and ready for harvest, and what trees that weren’t green were splendid in their colors, oranges and yellows of a tone that rivalled his own body for vibrancy. 

Then Inferno moved forward, swift and feline, and Grillby wondered if he could still move that way, if he wanted to. He wondered later if he still did without realizing it. The younger version of the elemental seemed careless with his flames, paying no heed to the vegetation around him as he stalked over the ground and it wilted from his heat. Fallen leaves caught fire around him, then bramble thickets and greenery as the flames spread to his right and left as he moved on, the fire growing, becoming a ferocious wall of flame as he neared the dwellings.

Grillby was forced to follow, somehow unaware of his own omnipotence as he watched with the cold realization of what was about to happen. The final crops of the season caught like kindling, their density and sheer volume allowing the elemental to gather the final amount of power he needed to truly make his attack. Already, the town was chaos, humans running in every direction, unprepared and unarmed as the flames drew near. They were shouting to their loved ones, dragging them from houses, carrying the old and frail as they fled just a little too slowly. Grillby wanted to turn away but he was bound to Inferno's path, bound to his own past as the first buildings caught fire. The screams and cries weren't entirely of mere panic now, but pain and loss.

How did he ever do this? Why didn't he stop? He couldn't-

A building fell, interrupting Grillby's racing thoughts as it collapsed beneath its own weight as the flames consumed it, weakening it’s structure as they arched higher in the dry autumn air. Grillby felt a swift kick of recognition. Unlike the rest of the town, which was terrible, but more a compilation of half-remembered horrors then anything truly tangible, he remembered this building. This was real. This was vivid.

Inferno had stopped his march forward, the heedless thing well assured of its own magic's strength and persistence. He didn't have to move any further, the remaining heat would cleanly char this village regardless of if he paid attention at this point, allowing the beast a moment to wander before his monster called him. He went, of course, to the building that had crumbled, sharp, high-pitched cries catching his attention. Inferno waved the flames away to disperse them as he walked, unconcerned about damage as he stepped on hot coals and smoldering rubbish but irritated with the fire for what it was hiding from his gaze. It took a few moments for him to find it, a human half blackened by his flames calling out in semi-conscious misery.

This was it. This was the first time he'd seen a human up close without it trying to kill him or vice versa, and he leaned in closer. Inferno stared at it for a while, head tilting ever time it made another noise. When he drew even nearer to it, he was without hesitation of malicious thought.

Inferno was just... Curious.

Grillby screamed in tandem with the living corpse as Inferno touched it, his poorly-formed mitten of a hand sizzling against what remained of the human's skin. He was only trying to get it to move so he could get a better look, but as the human's cries of pain died to whimpers as Grillby covered his face in nausea. It didn’t matter though, he knew what the scene looked like. He remembered. The child of fire only stopped when another voice cut through the memory, fierce and commanding.

"Leave it."

Inferno straightened instantly, turning with respect to his summoner. Toriel stood near the hole that now served as entrance to the building, a look of pure disgust on her face. Inferno didn't understand it then, but Grillby knew now why his people had been thought of as little more than animals or tools for so long.

Inferno seemed emotionless and unyielding as he flexed his fingers, staring at her vacantly. With the motion, flecks of charred skin that had stuck to his surface rained down like macabre glitter onto the dying human. Somehow this was what allowed Grillby to wake himself, sitting bolt upright and nearly crying out into the flickering darkness. It was the memory of the sensation, he realized. He could still feel it on his hands, the way it had stung him in that slight, meaningless way the moisture of blood did before it evaporated. The sense of dried, baking flesh clinging to him, then peeling off...

At this rate he was going to burn something. Grillby got out of bed and quickly made his way to the door, grabbing the broom as he did so. He felt immense relief as he made it to the cool night air, brushing the cement steps free of snow quickly in order to give himself a place to sit.

He was grateful to live in Snowdin, where the heat sinks were plentiful and the danger of his flame was limited. As an added bonus, the danger to himself was also minimal, as falling on a patch of snow hurt like hell as it melted, but it wasn't death for the elemental unless he just laid there. He sighed in relief as he pressed himself against the frozen stone. He could pour the entire heat of his emotions into it and it would still be barely warm. Grillby breathed and looked out over the small town as he calmed himself.

He reminded himself of his place here. Then, when he found himself not entirely convinced of it, stood and walked a few steps until he could clearly read the "Grillby's" sign across his business.

He was here now. He wasn't an inferno. He could move on from his past. He had. He'd even made a new past to move on from, he realized.

Why was he even thinking about so far back in his history? With another shuttering of his flame, Grillby forced himself to think about the memory again, hoping to suss out some significance to the nightmare. He didn't want to just be haunted by this again, not without a reason...

After he stepped away from the human, Toriel had ordered him out of the wreckage. She'd told him to start for the encampment, and he obeyed but at the most leisurely pace possible. Even back then, he had wanted to know what she was doing. He didn't look back though, not until he heard the sickeningly wet thud accompanied by a grunt, and glanced back only briefly to see the red splattered lightly across Toriel's armor. The rest of the day had passed uneventfully for Inferno and his monster as they rejoined the others and marched on. Inferno barely thought about it... Maybe in the back of his mind he had some concept of regret, but...

Nothing like the grief that racked Grillby now. The human - he didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl, only that it was far too small to be an adult - had died tortuously by his doing. Many had, though he tended to ignore this fact as much as possible. 

Elementals developed quickly once their cores were stable, but previous to the war few had retained their usefulness long enough to be constantly summoned for the amount of time necessary for them to obtain independence. Inferno had been lucky. He was summoned in the heat of battle and had consumed so much in his first hours of life, serving as pure defense for Toriel and her small legion, that by the end of the battle a mere three days later he was nearly autonomous. If Toriel had banished him then, he would have lingered for hours before fully fading away, but luckily there were many wounded and the monsters had use for his raw strength and spare hands. The event of the child in the building had happened when he was perhaps a month old, and his sense conscious developed perhaps two later, when he for the first time interacted with children at a refugee monster camp.

It was, perhaps, his hesitance to attack after this event that made Toriel spare him once the monsters were trapped underground. That, and the many elementals that showed a similar condition to him, persisting even after their caster had died or banished them. If it was a simple case of merely un-casting her own spell, Grillby knew she would've done it... But to have to actively cause him to dissipate, even if she didn't consider it death or murder, even if he wouldn't have struggled against her... The boss monster couldn't stomach it after all she'd seen in battle. Even after seeing him in battle. In the end, Toriel was always merciful, to the best of her abilities.

Grillby stood in front of his house again. He hadn’t found any reason for his nightmare, and no longer felt the need to find one. It was a dream, it had nothing to do with his reality, right? Just memories resurfacing. He wanted to crawl back into bed and get his last few hours of sleep before morning.

When he opened the door, however, he caught sight of the boy creeping down the stairs. It was Sans, and the boy’s face went fearful, eye flashing once a bright blue as he lurched backwards a step before turning to run up the incline. He was nearly to the top before Grillby called to him.

“Sans?”

The boy halted, then turned reluctantly. He looked down as Grillby and squared his shoulders.

“Come down here, please.” The boy came slowly, light regular thuds punctuating each step in the silence of the night. When he was on the last step, Grillby gestured to the living room.

\---

“Sit down, okay? What are you doing up, anyway… Let me get you something to drink.”

He didn’t even want answers this time, Sans thought, walking stiffly to the couch. It was the best place to watch the kitchen door from, and he wanted to see the monster coming. He didn’t know exactly what had woken him, whether it was his dream or the sound of the door closing, but he heard something move outside and went to investigate after he couldn’t fall asleep again. It was strange to have that freedom, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be allowed to, but The Monster had left the door slightly ajar and who wouldn’t take advantage of that?

Now though, he was regretting his actions. Papyrus wasn’t with him, though, so nothing too bad could happen. Besides, The Monster didn’t seem upset, but Sans couldn’t really read him in general. He was always doing something unexpected and Sans hated it, hated that he didn’t know what to expect. What was he doing in the other room? A drink, he said, but why would he bring Sans a drink? He fidgeted nervously and discovered that picking at his kneecap was a good substitute for his hand plate.

The Monster appeared from behind the corner with two mugs in his hand. One he offered to Sans before sitting on the other end of the couch. Sans peered in the mug curiously, the ceramic smooth and warm beneath his fingertips. It was hard to see, the lights in the living room weren’t turned on, and so what light he had to see with was a combination of The Monster’s glow and the ambient light from the kitchen. An opaque brown liquid swirl in it, and he wrinkled his eyebrow ridge. So far, The Monster hadn’t given them anything bad to eat, but this looked-

“Have you had hot chocolate before?” The Monster asked. Sans shook his head.

“It might be a little warm right now, so be careful, but you should drink it before it gets too cold.”

Sans took a reluctant swig and found himself pleasantly surprised. He raised his eyebrows and swallowed, tossing a glance at the monster to see what he was up to. He was just sitting there, looking somewhere a little past Sans and rubbing his thumbs over his fingers in thought. Sans ignored him and quickly drained the cup. When he was done, he nearly panted, feeling almost too hot as the liquid warmed him. He baulked a little, feeling sluggish, when he found The Monster’s hand already waiting beside him to take the mug.

As he handed the mug over, The Monster asked, “So what are you doing up?”

Sans shrugged, then, in the inevitably expectant silence said, “…couldn’t sleep.”

“Did I wake you, or did you have a dream?” The monster asked. Sans didn’t know, but said he had a dream. It seemed like it was the sort of answer he would like.

“What was the dream about?”

“you.”

“Oh?” The Monster’s tone changed a bit, “What was I doing in your dream?”

Sans frowned. He shouldn’t have said anything, should he? Before this moment, he hadn’t really considered what the monster had been doing. After all, it was just a dream, stupid images of nonsense that filled your head while you were unconscious. Still, he’d been asked a direct question and felt to lethargic to think of a lie right now.

“you were in waterfall,” Sans said, “standing in the river between a bridge and a waterfall. your legs were turning black, and you stood there until they broke beneath you and you fell into the water.”

Sans realized that The Monster had gone dead still. He dared to look at him again, and found for the first time an expression that terrified him and Sans retreated, slowly pushing himself against the armrest and pulling his knees up to his chest. The Monster didn’t move instantly, and Sans didn’t want him to. His expression had been empty, eyes wide and focused on Sans with an eerie fixedness. When The Monster moved only a second afterwards, Sans flinched, afraid he would be reached for, but instead The Monster’s hand went to his own neck as he rubbed it.

“That’s… Quite a dream.” The Monster said with a flat voice. Then he moved to take a long sip from his own mug. Sans heard the liquid sizzling as it evaporated, and grasped the dissonance of the moment. What was _he_ drinking? It didn’t make sense, and he found himself feeling even further cornered by the illogical nature of the action.

“I think-” The Monster started, then paused, bringing the mug to his lips again and swallowing. Sans realized he was shaken, but couldn’t bring himself to delight in it as he had previously due to the situation.

“I think that it’s, um, getting awfully late,” The Monster said, “And we should get you back to bed.”

Sans didn’t answer even as The Monster stood. Whenever Sans saw The Monster pull himself to his full height he felt even smaller. He wasn’t nearly as tall as The Doctor had been, but he was wider and seemed more solid somehow. Sans knew he was fast, too, even though he had never seen The Monster run. It was something about the way he reacted, maybe, but somehow the skeleton doubted he would be able to get away if The Monster really wanted to catch him…

He didn’t move much when The Monster lifted him from the couch and carried him back up the stairs, just stayed stiff and didn’t struggle. The Monster didn’t comment on it, and Sans had never been so grateful to crawl into the bed. The Monster left him almost instantly, saying the same thing he always did before closing the door most of the way and leaving Sans in the dark.

Sans’ fingers dug into his kneecap. He had caught a familiarly sweet, sickening scent for just a moment, as The Monster carried him, and was reminded of everything white and metallic from his past. 

\---

Gaster cradled his head in his hands. Time had passed. How much time, he did not know. He was in his office. There were people outside his office. He had to stay quiet, or else they would know he was there. The lights were off and he was being very quiet. They couldn't see him. They couldn't know.

His head hurt.  
His hands... Were dust.  
The pain was... Unfamiliar.

Dents had turned to holes.

The holes grew.  
The dust flowed.  
Then, it stopped.

It stopped.  
But that didn't help him.  
Time had passed.

How much time, he did not know.  
Cyclical thinking would get him nowhere.  
He needed to move forward.

Where was he?  
In his office.  
There were people outside. 

There were people inside.

No, just him. One. One person... Right? Wrong. If that was true, then who had written that? It sat between his elbows and he stared at it while he cradled his head in his hands which were dust at his desk in his office.

The note was written in thick black ink that cut into the paper, cut so deep the paper tore. Writing like that was terrifying. You could tell the emotions of whoever was writing it just be looking at it. It was desperate writing. It was his writing. 

What were emotions anyway?  
He didn’t think he liked them, but his memory disagreed.  
What was he forgetting?

The note.

He had written it.  
Just him.  
Somebody else. 

It was on his notepad, it had to be his, right? Wrong. Write, it was his righting. Was that funny? Nothing was funny, his head hurt too much, and he hadn’t been able to laugh in years unless he forced it. Faked it. His laughter was fake. What was he thinking?

In circles! But cylindrical thinking was getting him nowhere. He had to move on. Move forward. What was before that? He was helpless and the dust flowed and everything stopped except for time. No, that was wrong. He was wrong. 

_He_ was wrong. He _was_ wrong. He was _wrong_.

 _She_ was never a failure. _She_ had been right. Right? Write. Writing, written, the note! That was that and that was it and it was his note written in his desperate handwriting in his notepad, his yellow notepad by someone else. What was yellow, anyway?

Focus! Forward. Find, found, figure out. Fidelity? Friend, foe, fami-

No, focus forward. Yellow was the opposite of purple and purple was the only thing he had left but enough about that which was it which was him, he needed to read the note which was it which was that. 

What? His head hurt.

Between his elbows there was dust and under that dust there was a note. The dust was his, the note was not, but both of them came from his hand. Why hadn’t he read it yet? Cylindrical thinking? No, move forward. Focus.

The note read:  
" _Strange. Stranger, yet stranger..._  
_The cracks keep growing, the echoes spreading further..._  
_She was not a failure..._  
_But this next experiment seems... Very... Very... Cruel._  
_... What do you two think?"_

But he didn't write that, did he? Gaster cradled his head in his hands. No, of course not. It was nonsense. It was crazy. He... He wasn't crazy. He just needed sleep. Right, that was right, he needed sleep. Right.

Write, wrote, written.  
Read, read, red.  
Red, red, red.

Red was part of purple and part of orange but it was the opposite of green and green and green and… What was he thinking before that? Yellow? No, gray. No…

He needed sleep. Everyone agreed.

He needed to be quiet.  
Because of...?  
Because of the people outside.

His head hurt, his hands were dust, and the pain was unfamiliar.

Un[familiar].  
Familiar?  
[Fami[l]iar]. 

Family.  
The pain was family?  
Write. 

Liar.

Everything hurt.  
He could be quiet by sleeping.  
Cyclical thinking was getting him somewhere.

Gaster crawled onto the floor. There was something comforting about being down here. He was familiar with it, unlike pain. He wished that he wasn't, but he was, because it was identical to his other office. The one he got to through his closet. He'd spend a lot of time on the floors of his offices. He'd spent years. He had the same ugly, hideously ugly, pattern of carpet in both of them. It felt the same against his cheek. The lights were already off.

_He was wrong._


	23. Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Those dreams were ScaRy! I don't know about you, but I need a bit of fluff after that. :-P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 508 comments, 508 kudos. Truly today is a great day. Here's a -Short- Bonus chapter in celebration. Yes, last chapter has been renamed. :P

Despite his early morning conversation with Grillby, Sans had quickly settled into sleep afterwards. He had awoken slowly, the light from the window what woke him. He just laid there for a long period of time, his eyes unfocused, staring vacantly out the window as his hazy mind considered his situation. The Monster still hadn’t done anything. Not to him, not to Papyrus. He kept giving them food, treats even, and it just didn’t make sense to Sans. Eventually, he closed his eyes, wishing another few hours of unconsciousness might claim him. He’d always been good at sleeping.

Breathing deeply to relax himself, Sans stretched lavishly. As much as he disliked the whole situation he and his brother were in, he couldn’t deny his immediate fondness for the bed. It was safe, and while he’d refused to use the covers since his first experience upon waking, much warmer and more sheltered then he was used to. The bottom of the upper bunk hung like a low ceiling above him, allowing him a sense of security he couldn’t quite explain, only admit he was fond of. The cushioning beneath his back was thick and comforting, and he had realized quickly that no matter how deeply he probed it with his fingertips he couldn’t contact the hard surface below. Weird. He could even stretch without-

Without hitting Papyrus?

Sans sat up quickly, only his the combination of his short stature and slumped posture keeping him from concussing himself against the top bunk. He turned and found Papyrus entirely absent from the bed, then franticly clawed his way forward until he reached the edge. Looking around the bed, he didn’t relax even as he laid eyes on the other child.

“what are you doing!?” Sans hissed, causing Papyrus to jump.

The other skeleton turned towards him before replying, “I’M LOOKING.”

“come back here, what if the monster sees you?”

“HE WON’T. HE’S TALKING ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW.”

“how can you tell?”

“LISTEN.”

Sans stopped and tilted his head, focusing on the noises around him. After a couple moments, he could hear the monster’s voice, muffled by the floorboards. There were long paused between his words, occasionally, where Sans couldn’t make out any other voice. Unable to know who The Monster was talking too, he grew nervous. What if The Monster-

“hey!” Sans exclaimed when he noticed his brother moving again, “don’t do that.”

“WHY NOT?”

“because you might upset the monster. now, come back here and wait, okay? he’ll probably come soon. I watched him and he’s always up early.”

“HE ALREADY CAME TWICE,” Papyrus said, “I PRETENDED TO BE SLEEPING. HE DIDN’T COME ALL THE WAY IN, JUST KIND OF… LOOKED IN.”

“why… why would he do that?” Sans asked, his voice wavering. Papyrus just shrugged.

“YOU CAN HERE HIM COMING, SANS. THE STAIRS CREAK. AND BESIDES, I THINK THIS IS OUR ROOM NOW.”

“our room?”

“HE KEEPS PUTTING US HERE, AND HE DOESN’T GET ANGRY WHEN WE WANDER AROUND.”

“no… it can’t be.” Sans said, then reached out to his brother, “papyrus, please.”

Papyrus pouted at him and shifted a bit on his feet, as though debating. Finally, he took a step towards the bed, but then the younger skeleton’s feet slid from under him and he was sent sprawling over the floor. The bottom of his head hit the floor with a sharp snap as his teeth were forced together, and the boy let out a soft whimper as his body settled. Within a moment, Sans was up off the bed and by his sibling’s side, shifting him gently to get a better look.

“are you alright?”

Papyrus nodded meekly before reaching out to Sans. The older skeleton met his embrace in an instant, and sat down on the floor as he patted Papyrus’ back comfortingly. After a short period of this, Papyrus pulled away. Sans paused for a moment, looking into the younger skeleton’s eyes. He was relieved his younger brother was unharmed,

“WHY CAN’T THIS BE OUR ROOM?” Papyrus asked, and Sans was taken aback.

“it’s…” Sans struggled to find the words, “it’s too big. waste of space.”

Papyrus frowned in response. Then, he suddenly stood, hands pressed against the wall for support as he made his way across the room. Sans was too startled to catch him immediately, not expecting his baby brother to get up to quickly after a fall, but pursued soon after.

“what are you doing?” He asked and set his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “pap?”

His brother just gave him a big, goofy smile. He took a couple more steps forward, then reached up to a doorknob Sans hadn’t noticed before. It was turned before he had time to react, the accompanying door creaking open slightly. Sans grabbed his brother’s wrist and yanked it down.

“what are thinking? that door was shut!”

Papyrus tried to pull free of his grasp and Sans tightened it. For a brief moment, there was a tug-of-war between them, until Sans reached up and grabbed Papyrus’ other wrist, twisting the first one. In his fright and irritation with his brother’s actions, Sans had smirked as he did so, knowing precisely how it felt and that his brother would pay attention to him afterwards. Papyrus’ breath caught sharply, his eyes going wide for a moment as he didn’t just pull back, but go rigid at the sensation. Instantly, Sans let go, and Papyrus’ uninjured hand went to the arm he had twisted.

“pap, i didn’t mean…”

Papyrus gave Sans a hurt expression and his comment died in his throat. What had he just done? Sans felt an emotional tremor within him, sickened by his own action. He’d hurt papyrus again, on purpose. How could he have done that? He was just about to stumble backwards and hide in the bed again when Papyrus spoke.

“IT’S FINE-INE, SANS!” He said, “YOU- YOU JUST STARTLED ME!”

Sans stood very still and looked at the floor. Before he could decide what to do again, a small hand reached out and grabbed his wrist and he didn’t struggle. It was only fair. He deserved it. Instead of return the mild injury, however, Papyrus tugged him forward gently. Sans moved forward, blinking after a few steps when the texture of the floor changed and he looked up.

He was standing close – very close – to Papyrus now, the other skeleton smiling at him with a merriment Sans couldn’t understand and didn’t share. After a moment, Papyrus reached past him and pulled the door partially closed, the tiny room they were in darkening nearly completely. Then, he sat on the floor and stared at Sans expectantly.

“why are we in here?” Sans asked softly, as he sunk to the floor beside Papyrus.

“YOU SAID THE OTHER ROOM WAS TOO BIG. MAYBE THIS WILL BE OUR ROOM.”

Sans looked around, then up, spotting the bar above them.

“i think this is a closet, paps…”

“SO?”

“he wouldn’t keep us in a closet.”

“SAYS YOU.”

“what does that mean?”

“YOU SAID MONSTERS COULDN’T BE NICE, EITHER.”

Sans was silent at that. He was already picking at his knee again, but he started picking harder, little audible pops starting whenever his fingertips slid off.

“DON’T DO THAT.”

Sans stopped and looked at Papyrus again, then shook his head.

“PLEASE?”

“i… can’t.”

“WHY NOT?”

He didn’t know how to answer. First the monster was asking questions, now his brother? Sans felt his head start to hurt. He concentrated on one particular gap between the bones and gasped a little as the sudden heat of real pain hit him, and he pulled his hand back for a moment. Then, suddenly, Papyrus’ arms were around him again.

“FINE.” Was all he said, hugging Sans from the side. 

They stayed like this, for a moment, and in resignation Sans leaned against his brother. Papyrus pushed back at first, and then Sans added more weight and he grunted a little.

“SANS!” Papyrus said, just before the weight became too great and they both flopped over on each other. There was an awkward pause in the near dark before Sans relaxed, shutting his eyes for a moment. He’d always been good at sleeping, but he didn’t want to fall asleep here, no matter how nice and dark it was. It even smelled nice, if a bit dusty, kind of smoky and warm.

“NYEH-HEH” Came a soft chuckle from Papyrus, and Sans smiled to himself. It really was the best noise.

“this would make a nice room,” Sans said, finally.

“SEE?” Papyrus exclaimed, his hands tapping against the wall as he tried to emote, catching Sans’ attention. He looked up, to the wall, and noticed dark, irregular patches there. He reached out to touch them and noticed that the blackness rubbed off on his fingertips. What was this? He brought it to his face for closer inspection. Whatever it was, it was what was causing the smell, he realized.

Sans repositioned himself to look around a bit more. There were scribbles on the wall, too, he realized, in crayon like the ones The Monster had given them. Only a little, though, on a strip of wall right next to the door that would be impossible to see from outside the closet. He couldn’t make out much but realized some of the scribbles were letters, and half of a non-descript, smiling face remained in yellow. Above it, in messy writing, was the word “KAI”. Sans didn’t recognize it.

“WHO MADE THAT?” Papyrus asked, having noticed what he was looking at.

“i don’t-”

Suddenly, there was a series of sharp creaks outside the door accompanied by footsteps. The Monster. Both children were sat up, and Papyrus stood, about to push open the closet just as The Monster opened the door and Sans yanked him back down, sharply. He covered Papyrus’ mouth with a hand when the younger skeleton opened it to object, terrified of what would happen if they were discovered.

The Monster had frozen a step into the room, as soon as he had seen the empty bed. Sans could see his upper body swivel as he looked around through the grating of the door and scooted back, taking his brother with him. The Monster took another step forward, and Sans could see him rise to his tiptoes before he dropped down, looking beneath the bed.

“Papyrus? Sans?” There was obvious panic in his voice and Sans wondered at this, before The Monster stood and let out an exasperated sounding, “Shit, not again…”

Papyrus struggled against Sans, their bones rubbing together as he tried to restrain his older brother. Abruptly, Papyrus shoved his weight backwards, causing Sans to topple, his back hitting the closet wall with a thumb before he slid down it. It didn’t hurt, but was noisy enough to gain The Monster’s attention, especially after Papyrus added in hushed tones, “HE’S NOT GOING TO HURT US!”

Sans was unconvinced, his eyes beginning to glow blue as The Monster approached. He realized that that was only making the situation worse, as The Monster could probably see the glow, and closed his eyes tight. He heard The Monster draw forward, the small sound of his hand against the closet, and then…

A relieved sigh.

“There you two are, wow… I was worried for a moment that you’d run off again.”

Sans opened his eyes. The Monster was blocking the doorway, effectively cornering them without any chance of escape unless Sans teleported. But he didn’t seem mad in the slightest, a small smile playing over features that flickered a little, but were for the most part smooth and accurate. Papyrus had stopped struggling, and in fact seemed to have stopped moving at all, relaxing against Sans and the back of the closet.

“I just made breakfast… Lunch. Brunch.” Grillby said, chuckling a little, “That’s a real thing, I gather.”

A pause, then, “You two want to come down and eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: My question is did Pap really fall, or...?


	24. Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just imagine what Grillby looks like right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another, "Oh, I have to re-title last chapter, don't I?" Chapters. Sorry about that... I think we're looking as a three chapter day here, with next chapter being the final portion of it. After that, I'm hoping to have the next few days be a chapter each, until we reach three days from now when a lot of things are going to happen and we mind end up with one day having a ton of chapters behind it. Like, I sincerely think that a ten minute interaction between Grillby and, um... "Someone" is going to take a full chapter.
> 
> I promise, this chapter will remain titled "Bar". Unless it doesn't. In that case... Whoopsie!

That morning, instead of his typical attire, Grillby opted for something more casual. Why not, he reasoned, realizing he again had no intent of leaving the house, and even if he did it wouldn’t be for any professional interaction. Instead, he wore a rather goofy Hawaiian shirt that he ironically had two of. The Flamesmans and Fuku’s family had both gotten him the same shirt for Gryftmas one year, both to make a mockery of his consistently formal attire, and the two differed only slightly in color schemes. Somewhat pettily, he preferred the one Fuku had gotten him, the leaves on it less blue then his other one, closer to a true green, the obnoxious hibiscus blossoms more peach-colored then red.

Throughout the morning, he was inundated with concerned phone calls and worried neighbors, Bunny apparently having called and told half the underground about her suspicions. It quickly became frustrating for him, particularly since he valued so highly each person’s opinion of him and didn’t want to be short with a single one. He didn’t even mind that it was getting rather late without him having woken the children, figuring that they deserved the rest, but eventually the sheer volume of the calls got to him and he nearly slammed the phone into the receiver after a particularly long conversation with a particularly lonely older neighbor. He had been working on a meal while he talked to various people, and now it was finally done, having taken far longer than it should have thanks to the constant interruptions.

After a solid minute without the phone ringing, he let out a sigh and walked up the stairs to the children, his flames nearly dying when he opened the door to find an empty bed. Luckily, it didn’t take long for him to hear something, and he found them huddled in the closet together. He tried to keep his tone light and cheerful, but realized that Sans was still somewhat distressed and tried to move them down to the kitchen as quickly as possible.

As the children ate, Grillby noticed with some delight that Papyrus was more then happy to talk with him. He seemed to have latched on to the idea of pets, and kept asking Grillby various questions about them, what they were like, what you could do with them, etc. The children were nearly done eating when the phone interrupted their conversation just as Grillby was explaining that you could train some kinds of pets, but others, like fish, were just to look at and faun over.

“I should get that,” Grillby told the child, before reluctantly answering the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi. Grillby?”

“Yes, um… Bailey?”

“Bonnie. Why does everyone do that? Anyway, what’s this Bun’s is telling everyone about you and the royal guard?”

“Nothing,” Grillby said, his exasperation showing for a moment, “Is she there? Can I talk to her?”

“I’m afraid not, she just left with Cinnamon to go for a walk. And this obviously isn’t ‘nothing’, mister.” Bonnie’s mothering tones were readily apparent. While she and Bailey were twins with similar voices, there features differing more from their lifestyle choices then their genetics, they had very different personalities. While Bonnie was sweet, and far more respectful and understanding then Bunny, she still had that slightly indignant air about her if you pushed her the wrong way. Bailey, meanwhile, was even-keeled and laid back, either very hard to offend or simply good at masking her emotions. Regularly, she seemed to fall back on the phrase, “That’s life, ain’t it?” as reasoning or a response, her slight accent acquired from the many years she spent travelling the different regions of the underground while Bonnie settled down and had a family.

“No one has seen you around for more than a few instants since last week, for surface sake. We’re just worried about you is all, Grillby, we don’t mean any offense…”

“I know, I know.” Grillby said, “I just wish Bunny-”

“Bunbun.”

“-Right, hadn’t tried to force herself into my business like that - Literally force herself into my house? Couldn’t she have called first? I appreciate your concern, but I have had something very important pop up and I didn’t really have time for the sudden interruption.”

“I guess that was a little rude of her, but… Grillby, you still haven’t told me what’s going on.”

“I… Probably shouldn’t, not until a few more details get sorted out. It isn’t anything bad, though. Or at least, not for me?”

“Alright.” Bonnie said, then, “How long do you think whatever this is will take to sort out, though?”

Grillby rubbed his temples with his free hand, “Honestly, Bonnie? I have no idea.”

“Oh,” She said, then, “Well, um… Should we try to make another reservation then?”

“Reservation for what?” Even as he said it Grillby realized what, and cursed himself. How had he forgotten?

“The reunion,” Bonnie said, “For the whole family? Happens once every five years or so? Been, uh, happening in your bar for as long as I can remember.”

“No, right…” Grillby said, “How far away is it?”

“Three days,” Bonnie said, “We can find somewhere else, Grillby, it’s no big deal. If worse comes to worse we can just have it in the inn.”

“No, no, I’ll manage. I’m not going to let-”

The sound of running water instantly ripped Grillby’s attention away from the conversation. He turned on his heels, a small thrill running through him as he found Sans standing by the sink, back turned, water rushing from the tap. The elemental’s first impression was of how small the child looked, straining slightly to reach the water. This detail was lost without any real thought behind it as he was more concerned with what the child was doing, more than a little rattled by Sans’ previous actions, but recalled later for some analysis. 

Grillby later revaluated the child’s age in his mind, but after some consideration decided that the perceived deficit in height was more likely caused by Grillby’s odd kitchenware. The elemental had learned how to cook from boss monsters in a kitchen created for monsters like them, that is those with somewhat larger builds, and as a result had taken a liking to over-sized equipment. Tisiphone had occasionally complained about it, in fact, but Grillby had a secret tenderness for seeing his fierce wife feminized slightly by her surroundings. She was stronger, faster, and Grillby had a suspicion smarter than him, but at least he was taller. 

It wasn’t that he had any objection to her personality, lifestyle, or the way their relationship had turned out in general, but whenever the issue of the kitchen came up it gave him an opportunity to make a mockery of himself and sometimes Tisi and gender roles in general as well. Occasionally this earned him a sharp glare from her, but more often than not she’d laugh at his antics, either wrapping her arms around him or letting the opposite happen for a quick peck before they moved on with their busy life together. These were happy, tender moments for him, reminding him of others where Tisiphone would giggle like a school girl as she allowed him to embrace her.

“Sans, what are you doing?” His voice was punitive, an instinctual emotion he hadn’t meant to express in that moment.

“Huh? Grillby?” Bonnie’s confused voice called from the receiver.

“Sorry, Bon- Can I call you back in a few moments?”

“Sure, I-”

“Thanks.” Grillby hung up the phone without moving his eyes from the boy, before saying, now in a more regular tone of voice, “Sans?”

The boy had turned around by now and was looking very nervous, staring at the ground. He didn’t speak, just rocking back and forth on his feet as he stood sheepishly in front of the pouring faucet. Grillby felt a little ill not knowing what the child intended, and even worse for his own adverse thoughts. If it wasn’t for that _fucking_ dream it wouldn’t have bothered him so much, but before this the amount of agency the two children had shown was limited at best, and then last night this particular child described Grillby’s death by water. He saw San’s hand’s coming together in that particular manner and rushed to speak again.

“I’m not angry, Sans, I’m just wondering what you’re doing with-” Grillby’s voice faltered a little. _Damnit_. “With the water?”

Sans stilled at his words and Grillby didn’t know if it was an improvement. He decided to take it as one, though, since the boy stopped moving to pick at himself. Not long after, Sans mumbled something beneath his breath and glanced up at Grillby’s face, his gaze dropping again immediately afterwards.

Grillby spoke next with a deliberately soft voice, “Sans, I can’t hear you, kid.”

Sans breathed deeply before he tried to speak again, louder this time, “i thought… maybe… since you weren’t asking for… for anything that…”

The boy withdrew only to have his tailbone bump roughly against the counter behind him. Grillby didn’t think he said anymore, but if he did the words were drowned out by the water. He took a hesitant step forward, only to hear the sudden sound of the chair shifting ever so slightly followed by a quick concession of clicks as Papyrus ran to his brother’s side. The younger boy stood between Grillby and the other, his hand resting gently on Sans’ shoulder as he glanced over his own at the elemental. As soon as his hand touched Sans, the older boy pulled his younger sibling closer like a security blanket, still staring at the floor. Papyrus’ expression was not quite one of fear, but nervous concern as his attention wavered between Sans and Grillby.

Intentionally giving the children as much space as possible, Grillby moved forward to shut off the water, nearly sighing in relief as he did so. He felt ridiculous, afraid of his own kitchen sink, and knelt beside the children at a loss for what to do. Even so, his advance seemed to have triggered more panic in Sans, a blue glow barely visible in the bright light of the kitchen as it gleamed against Papyrus’ bones.

“Shhh, it’s okay… Sans?” Grillby tried to sooth from a distance, “It’s fine, it’s fine… Everything’s fine. Do I, um, sound upset to you? Because I’m not, I promise. Besides, I promised not to hurt you, remember? I’d never hurt you anyway-”

“promises are lies…” Grillby heard Sans mutter, his voice fading quickly afterwards.

“No, they’re not…” Grillby said weakly. Being a monster of high integrity, Grillby rarely made promises and even more rarely broke them. As a general rule, he considered his own words contracts, and always did what he said he would to the best of his abilities. Not that he had never lied or let another down, but it was a rare thing and only happened in extenuating circumstances. Normally, promises simply seemed excessive to him, yet he valued them rather highly.

In the quick silence afterwards, Grillby could’ve kicked himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, then brought his hand forward to his mouth where he bit lightly on his knuckle, then withdrew it with a flinch. Sans was already self-destructive, he didn’t want to model such behavior as a coping mechanism, no matter how weakly. The way he clung to his brother now reminded Grillby of beneath the table, and the last thing he wanted was another episode of that. So, he decided to take a risk. With a few great breaths, the elemental ensured his surface tempter was even and reasonable before leaning forward and pulling the two children into a very loose, free form hug.

“Shhh,” he simply reverted to hushing them repeatedly, “Everything is alright. We’re all safe, and no one’s going to get hurt, alright?”

Both children had gone rigid at his touch, and Grillby almost instantly felt his doubts start to overwhelm him. He persisted, however, murmuring similar things to the boys as he tried to calm them. After a few seconds, Papyrus had relaxed again, but Sans’ shoulders was still rigid beneath his forearm, the only place where the two monsters really touched. Grillby had tried not to use his hand to grip either child and attempted to make the hug as easy to break as possible. He was just about to pull away and apologize when he felt Sans shift, not moving any closer to him but closer to Papyrus, who he had lost some grip on when Grillby first embraced them. Slowly, very slowly, the tension in Sans relaxed until he was his usual stiff self instead of a board of a child, and Grillby stopped speaking, content just to breathe in the situation, his eyes closed as anxiety still bubbled within his core. Was this precisely the wrong thing to do? He thought his book would say so.

Finally, he pulled away and opened his eyes, opting simply to sit on the kitchen floor as he retreated, back against the counter as he let the flames in his legs regain some oxygen. They were strained after several minutes in the awkward position, and felt the closest to what elemental’s felt as asleep, somewhat weak and tingly. He looked to the boys. Sans had let go of Papyrus, though Papyrus’ hand still rested on one of Sans’ shoulders. Both boys were looking as him strangely, though Papyrus’ expression was softer, and Sans’ more confused and judgmental. Regardless, the older skeleton seemed knocked out of his earlier cycle of timidity.

Grillby sighed. Then, realized with a sudden satisfaction that this was the longest Sans had ever made eye contact with him without being seemingly frozen with fear or challenging him. Confused and judgmental was better than afraid.

“Sans?” Grillby said, waiting for the boy to acknowledge him before he continued. Unfortunately, the boy’s response was to break eye contact.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know what you were up to. You can use the sink, you just startled me a bit.”

The boy’s expression shifted to something skeptical, more spiteful then pure doubt, less forward then indignant. The boy used his whisper-voice again, but this time Grillby expected it and strained to hear him.

“i startled you?”

“…Yes.” Grillby said, his own voice abruptly growing softer. He was half trying to match the child, half considering his own responses more carefully as he spoke.

“i _startle_ people a lot.” Sans said, in a statement very atypical for him. His expression was smoothing, Grillby cognized, but instead of sliding into his mask of neutral as it often did his face simply seemed unreadable, like there were too many emotions for him to express any one. “how?”

Grillby didn’t precisely want to answer, but thought it was a fair enough question. “I’m not overly fond of water.”

“…yeah…” Sans said, “i know. that’s what i was doing, though. washing the dishes so you didn’t have to…”

“Really?” Grillby said, surprise coloring his tone.

“yeah.”

Grillby was sent reeling for a moment, before he said “Thank you.”

The look Sans shot him in response murdered any positive emotions about the exchange. It was an analytical stare, very cold, almost practiced, and it made it very clear that there wasn’t any good will behind the action. Thinking back to what the child had said previously, Grillby realized he was acting out of debt.

“You don’t have to do that, though.”

“it’s…” Sans seemed to take a while to find the right word, “a waste for me not to. water isn’t going to _hurt me_ , you’d just be using resources inefficiently.”

Grillby wondered if that was meant to be a threat. Keeping his reaction concealed, he pushed himself up from the ground and stood. Then said, in a tone he was very, very careful not to let sound defensive, “A little water isn’t going to hurt me, either, Sans. But thank you for your concern.”

“WH-WHAT ABOUT-T-T,” Papyrus said suddenly, gaining both other’s attention as they looked to him. The younger skeleton looked positively distressed, his brow ridge crinkled and his stammer worse than normal, “A LOT-LOT OF WATER?”

Before he answered, Grillby deliberated if Papyrus was taking a side, and if there was a side to take. Maybe the children were merely being factual and curious, but somehow he couldn’t convince himself of this. Paranoia, maybe. He hadn’t gotten any sleep after his conversation with Sans, so it seemed reasonable to think he might be more prone to exaggerated thinking.

“That _could_ hurt me, yes… It’s more likely just to scare me, though. I’m pretty careful.”

“ **scare** you?”

Grillby looked to Sans again, amazed at the loudest he’d ever heard the skeleton speak. It wasn’t in the tone of voice he expected, either, not cocky or smug but just… Surprised. The inflection matched his expression, to, the skeleton’s eye’s wide. It seemed as though he’d just had a revelation, though what it was Grillby was now unsure he wanted to know.

“Yes,” he said, repeating, “ _scare_ me.”

“monsters don’t…” Sans started, then frowned, as though realizing what he was about to say didn’t make sense. “…scared doesn’t…”

His words fragmented off, his meaning lost like leaves on the wind. Grillby felt a certain mixture of sadness and pity overwhelming his own anxiety as he watched Sans’ eye lights flicker uncertainly, reminding him of the child’s background. That he _was_ just a child. With a word lost beneath his breath, Sans stopped speaking again, and immediately, Papyrus was talking over the silence again.

“YOU SHOULDN’T BE AFRAID!” He said, looking at Grillby with what started as a large, wavering smile, “YOU’RE… YOU’RE BIG! AN-AND POWERFUL. B-BUT ALSO NICE. AND… AND SANS SHOULDN’T BE AFRAID EITHER, BECAUSE YOU’LL BE NICE TO US. N-NO ONE… NO ONE SHOULD-D…”

A sob escaped the younger child. The noise snapped both other monsters out of their own self-imposed drama, their attention focused at once at the youngest of them. Instantly, Sans was there for him, wrapped around him in an embrace simply too unyielding to be comforting. The blue-eyed boy was staring at Grillby again, and the elemental sunk to the floor again before he carefully reached out, watching Sans’ reaction as he did so. Papyrus had covered his hands with his face now, his breath coming in uneven little gasps as he kept trying and failing to contain his emotions. When Grillby touched Papyrus, neither boy reacted, and he tried rubbing little circles into the boy’s shoulder awkwardly, hoping that would provide comfort.

After a few moments of this, he gestured out a little larger, his eyes meeting Sans as he tried to get a feeling for the older sibling’s opinion of his actions. Sans remained impassive, so very slowly, Grillby surrounded the boys in another hug. It was only then that he realized Papyrus was still speaking, his normally clear and distinct voice mixing with his emotions and garbling each word.

“YOU WON'T… AND… NO ON WILL…”

“shhhh.” Was all Grillby said, “we’re all fine here, right?”

He was a little surprised when Papyrus fell quiet and nodded, before his subtle, warped words turned into begging, “PLEASE… PLEASE…”

Grillby hushed him. After many moments, he asked, “How about I take you to the living room, okay? Is that alright with you?”

The children didn’t respond so he tightened his grip slowly, giving them a chance to disagree with his actions. Then, he gripped both of them tightly, scooping the boys up as he went to his living room. Without shifting his grip at all, he turned around and sat on the couch, simply waiting for the child to quiet. At some point, instead of shushing them, Grillby switched to humming, at first nondescriptly, then settling on a particular rhythm. He probably was only a line or two into the song when he stopped abruptly, realizing exactly what it was he was humming for the first time as a chill went through him. He didn’t care for it.

By now the children were noiseless, Papyrus’ breathing even and calm with one arm hanging over Grillby’s shoulder in the first hold he’d ever gotten from the children, the other wrapped tightly around his brother. Grillby couldn’t see either child’s face, but he thought that Papyrus might have fallen asleep or was nearly so, half of his face pressed against the thin green-blue fabric of Grillby’s shirt. Sans, of course, was somewhat firm, the child never seeming to relax and Grillby released his grip to see if the child would move away. When he didn’t, Grillby replaced it loosely, and sighed.

Logically, he knew he should get up and call Bonnie back. Who knew what fresh hell Bunny was preparing for him, what rumors were now buzzing around Snowdin like flies around a trash heap, but he didn’t want to upset this momentary peace. He had come to realize it was only temporary, that there would be months, perhaps years of these emotional struggles and stalemates before the children gained any semblance of normalcy. Instead of move, Grillby let his head drop backwards and rest against the headrest as he closed his eyes, taking a brief reprieve from the chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter has importance. This is a big one.
> 
> In other news, I think I'm going to be starting a forth Undertale Fic soon? The think is that this will be another BIG one like T[he]y, unlike Script or (S)(o)(n), which are both basically dabbles. Currently, I have it's working folder labeled as "A Different Kind of Underswap", and what I can tell you right now is that Papyrus is Toriel and Sans is king, and the genocide route boss is Toriel. I'm considering the irony of Grillby being the Nicecream man, too, but he might just be Muffet... XD
> 
> EDIT ON THIS:
> 
> I'm thinking I'll make a triangle out of Undyne, Alphys, and Mettaton, but I can't figure out what I like best... Alphys as a game show host, or the royal guard captain? Mattaton as a scientist? How about Udyne?
> 
> It's important to note that the personalities would be almost completely intact as far as I can muster. For instance, imagine Undyne aggressively making food for her sick creations in the true lab... The Temmies. And Tori's judgement would either be, "I'm proud of you, my child!" or, "I see now that I should never have protected _you_ from _them_ "... My favorite though is Asgore as Papyrus, because I kinda feel like they ARE the same character only under different circumstances.


	25. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look at this, guys, we've officially hit 25 chapters AND 100 bookmarks! Whooo~ In honor of this event, I'm going to do a quick Mettaton-Style quiz. If you answer incorrectly, you die! But not really, because I freaking love humans and especially my smoll fan-base for this fic. You guys really make it worth it! Thanks! :-)
> 
> So, without further ado... Which of these events will happen within the next 5 chapters?!?!?
> 
> A) Ambrose gives Sans a squirt gun so that he feels powerful and can actually bond with Grillby, meanwhile Grillby is just like, "WHY U DO THIS?!?!" until he realizes it's actually a good thing.  
> B) Heats Flamesman will take over Grillby's kitchen, meanwhile Grillby is just like, "WHY U DO THIS?!?!" until he realizes it's actually a good thing.  
> C) Papyrus begins using his Blaster form to scare away Grillby's nosy neighbors, meanwhile Grillby is just like, "WHY U DO THIS?!?!" until he realizes it's actually a good thing.  
> D) Muffet forces Grillby into a drinking tournament, meanwhile Grillby is just like, "WHY U DO THIS?!?!" until he realizes it's actually a good thing.  
> E) Some but not all of these things will happen.
> 
> In other news, this chapter is a piece of shit, just like me. :-D

“Sans?”

The skeleton jumped at The Monster’s voice. He had started to zone out, lost in thoughts he couldn’t reconcile after washing the dishes. It was an odd experience for him, to be the only one awake if only for an hour. In the living room he heard The Monster shift, then a little noise of malcontent from Papyrus.

“Shh, I’m just getting up. Would you like a blanket?” Sans heard the monster say, though not to him. Then, a few moments later, a second call of “Sans?”

The boy dug his fingertips into his knee as he responded, “…yeah.”

He heard The Monster move towards the room, slowing as he came through the entrance. Sans waited for a moment, waiting for him to speak, get angry, something… But The Monster was quiet, cautiously moving towards the table before easing himself into the chair across from Sans. It was then that the skeleton finally looked at The Monster, long and hard, back to the glass of water in front of him, and then glanced at The Monster before dropping his gaze again. The Monster’s eyes had been focused on the glass, and Sans felt something like nausea. Reflexively, he picked up the glass and took a couple sips even though he wasn’t thirsty.

It seemed like something crawled across his backbones. He wondered if The Monster could see them, but didn’t dare interrupt the silence. Since when did silence make him uncomfortable?

The Monster made a small sound, similar to clearing his throat before he reached out and fondled the spine of his book thoughtfully. It had been sitting towards the center of the table, near the wall, and Sans had looked at it briefly before he had started the dishes. He had looked at a lot of things while The Monster was sleeping, not daring to touch, but curious and desperate. He couldn’t keep from _thinking_ anymore and it was painful to him, in a way. 

At first it had been almost relaxing, to have a few moments spent without a new task looming to be completed, and he had been grateful for it as he expected it to be short lived. But now enough time had passed that Sans was done with what little reminiscence he could do, and he was left with the options of thinking about the future or the present. Both were nebulous to him, and each piece of information he gathered stuck in his skull, buzzing like flies that flew and rammed against his previously conceived notions. The Monster let them talk. The Monster let them ask questions. The Monster explained the medicine - _took_ the medicine. The Monster kept making faces. The Monster kept apologizing. The Monster didn’t punish them. The Monster could be **scared** …

In the lab things were never like this. Everything was clear cut. Compliance or consequences, behavior rewarded – rarely - or punished – often. Sometimes the same behaviors would give different results depending on the day. It had been better not to think, just act, because thinking about it would cause him to make mistakes. He wasn’t supposed to think, anyway. Outside was much the same, though instead of obeying _him_ , Sans did what biology and Papyrus had demanded. It was simple.

“Thanks again for doing the dishes,” The Monster said, pulling Sans from his thoughts, “You really don’t have to, though, kid. I’m not sure how many more ways I can say that.”

The silence resumed, Sans thinking and hating it until finally he took a deep breath. His words died in his throat and he sighed instead. Another big breath and he asked, “what _do_ I have to do?”

The Monster didn’t as much as blink. Sans had been hoping for a bigger reaction. He’d been hoping for answers. Most importantly, he’d been _hoping_.

“Nothing, Sans.”

The boy hunched his shoulders, withdrawing, his head dipping down until his mandible met his collarbone. He kept glancing at The Monster, then away, torn. Monsters were easier to read when you could see their expression, but on bad days eye contact could warrant punishment. Even on The Doctor’s good days it could trigger some reaction, little things that Sans had learned to notice to keep normal days from turning bad. Straps would be tightened more forcefully then necessary, needle work would get sloppy, or minor procedures would be performed without anesthetic. It was important to be quiet when this started so it didn’t get worse, as quiet as possible at least. 

The Doctor had understood pain and didn’t punish little gasps or even crying… When he decided it was justified. But he was unpredictable. Somedays he would act mercifully, being as gentle as he could after Sans gave a sign of discomfort or making Sans feel less or sleep instead, and other days a poorly timed breath would only cause him to be more severe. On the other hand, The Monster hadn’t punished them for anything yet.

“why are you acting nice?” Sans asked after a while.

“I’m not acting,” Grillby said, his voice a resigned sigh, “Do you… understand that?”

The boy was silent, and after a moment Grillby gestured to the glass of water, “Are you actually thirsty?”

Sans reached for the glass with a quick bolt of fear and brought it to his mouth. He swallowed quickly, taking one, two, and then three large gulps before Grillby could interrupt him. The glass was nearly empty.

“Stop,” he said, “Sans, stop. It’s okay, I was just asking a question, not…”

Sans stopped. He glanced up at The Monster and found only a small frown and kindness. The liquid had made Sans feel cold inside and he shivered, breathing slightly faster after chugging the water. He tried to suppress a small cough, causing him to inhale some of the dampness in his throat and triggering him to cough far harder then he would’ve originally. It seemed mild compared to a few days ago, but his chest burned afterwards, already sore from his previous state. The Monster got up and moved around the kitchen for a moment, setting something down before Sans saw through bleary eyes that his glass had been taken away. He didn’t object, focusing on catching his breath.

A hand came against his back, hot and soothing. Sans went rigid against it but didn’t pull away, then after he recovered, he closed his eyes. Ever since he left the lab he’d been cold, even before the deadly chill of Snowdin. It was pervasive, the chill in his marrow, unescapable. The Monster’s house came the closest to banishing it, as warm as it was, but the cold was still there. Sometimes it faded when Papyrus hugged him, particularly at night here, with the blankets soft beneath him. Sans refused to go under the blankets again, the first few moments of consciousness here still sharp in his memory, tight and pinning him, reminding him of the table with straps. Right now Sans wanted to let the heat sink into him and ignore the world around him, cautious of what was about to happen.

The click of glass on the table made him open his eyes and found the water glass refilled before him, two small cups beside set beside it. The pills and the orange medicine. Sans looked towards The Monster again, and he was looking down at Sans with a mixture of concern and sadness.

“Alright?”

Sans nodded. The Monster pulled away and went to his side of the table. He sat down and leaned back, stretching, before resting his forearms on the table. Meanwhile, Sans had reached out and took the orange stuff first, wanting to get the worst of it done quickly, before swallowing the pills as well. He wondered when Papyrus would take his, but didn’t say anything. Finally, he reached for the glass and took a small sip or two, wondering what The Monster was thinking. He didn’t have to wonder long.

“Why do I have to want something from you?”

Sans set the water down and looked into it, tightening his grip experimentally as he thought about how to answer. He decided just to shrug, but The Monster didn’t take that as an answer alone. He started talking again, his voice not angry but with emotional undercurrents Sans heard but couldn’t place.

“Sans, you’re just a boy. I mean, I found you and Papyrus passed out in the snow and digging through garbage. For surface sake, kid, what could you give me? What would I want and why would I want it?”

“i don’t know,” Sans said, disconcerted, “but monsters always want something.”

The Monster was about to respond when the phone rang, Sans flinching at the noise. Grillby let out a long sigh before standing to answer it, the ringer blaring once again. As he picked up the phone, Sans took the opportunity to retreat back to the living room, taking his water with him. He paused just before he exited the room, looking for a moment at The Monster and the dishes drying in the rack.

\---

Papyrus woke up when Sans nestled next to him again, his sleep already interrupted by the ringing of the phone and felt immediately disoriented. He had a vague, light feeling in his head. Sans presence was comforting, so he leaned into it, dragging his body closer to the other child. Almost immediately, he noticed the glass of water in Sans’ hand and stared at it, waiting as moments passed by and Sans didn’t touch it.

“SANS?” He said finally, “I’M THIRSTY.”

The other skeleton looked at him, then handed the glass over. Papyrus half drained it before he stopped himself, holding it out to Sans again but the older boy shook his head. Papyrus didn’t hesitate to finish it, but afterwards looked at his brother curiously.

“I’M SORRY,” He said.

“don’t be,” Sans responded, smiling in a way that made Papyrus didn’t recognize, “i wasn’t going to use it anyway.”

“WHY DID YOU HAVE IT, THEN?”

There was a long pause before Sans replied with, “the monster gave it to me when i took my medicine.”

“OH.” Papyrus said, cuddling deeper against his brother. Sans’ faint warm wasn’t anything compared to The Monsters, but it made him feel better regardless. Safer. He closed his eyes.

“pap?”

“HM?”

“you’re sleeping a lot…”

“I’M TIRED.” Papyrus said in response, eyes still closed. He felt Sans wrap his arms around him and smiled sleepily.

“me too,” came the quiet reply.

Papyrus’ smile disappeared, and when he spoke again there was a trace of irritation in his voice as he said, “YOU’RE ALWAYS TIRED!”

A comfortable silence started after this, and Papyrus sighed, his overall contentment overpowering his complaints. Earlier today had been weird, and his head felt stuffy and sore from crying, he could somehow tell that Sans was beginning to be less afraid of The Monster and he thought that was a good thing. In the other room, he heard The Monster talking on the phone right then, and tried to listen in. Unfortunately, The Monster hung up only a moment afterward, ruining his game. Then Papyrus heard The Monster walk over to them.

“Hey, boys?” He said, “I should go into work a little today, start cleaning things up. Can you guys come with me?”

“YES.” Papyrus said, sitting up in an instant, not wanting to give Sans a chance to refuse. He could feel Sans go stiff but ignored it, knowing the boy would concede. The idea of seeing another place excited him, though the excitement faded slightly when he saw the window behind The Monster, a think snow falling outside. After a few moments of silence, The Monster seeming to wait for something to happen, before he nodded slowly.

“Alright, I’ll find some better clothing for you then.”

\---

The new clothing was mismatched and large, bagging around the skeleton’s figures as they were carried over the snow to the restaurant because The Monster couldn’t find any shoes that would fit their narrow feet. The Monster was walking rapidly, nearly jogging through the short distance of public space, and Papyrus felt nervous sensing The Monster’s nervousness. Glancing over at his brother, he knew Sans was similarly aware and unsettled. There were several other monsters they could see as The Monster struggled to unlock and open the door with his arms full, the ones that had noticed him seeming to stare at them.

The door finally opened and The Monster went inside quickly, the door shutting sharply behind him. Inside of the building the lights were off, the tabletops barely visible in the shallow light provided by the covered windows. The Monster put down the children and flipped the light switch. Papyrus gave a little gasp at the space before him. The decor was rich and warm, chocolate walls with red leather seating and polished tables. There were photographs on the walls of all different types, and a machine the boys were unfamiliar with in the corner with a purple neon sign above it. Grillby walked towards a counter in the back, and beyond that a door and a large set of shelves accented with orange and yellow. The Monster opened the door and went through it, and Papyrus herd the sound of more lights being turned on before The Monster came back to them.

“Okay, boys,” Grillby said, “Let’s go check out the rec room, shall we?”

He made similar little comments as he led them through the restaurant, and the boys glanced in the kitchen as they passed through, their brief impression of it clean and silver, more industrial then the one in The Monster’s house but with splashes of color here and there, novelties and gifts they would later learn. As they came into the small room in the back, The Monster paused, grabbing something off the counter and stuffing it in his pocket, then continued onwards. The room was painted in a deep mustard yellow, and while not dusty, bore some sense of neglect. There were boxes stacked in various piles around it, even on the twin mattress and sofa pressed against the walls, not quite disorganized but haphazard compared to the rest of the building. As the children stood by the door, The Monster rearranged the boxes, positioning them in tall stacks against the wall beside the bed.

“Sorry that there’s not much more for you to do,” Grillby said, “But I shouldn’t be very long. Maybe a couple hours? I just need to take inventory for later.”

“OKAY,” Papyrus said, settling next to Sans on the sofa. He was happy to have moved to a different building, but also found that he was still startlingly fatigued, particularly after the hassle of trying on a bunch of different clothing until The Monster found the best fit. Beside him, Sans wore the same blue hoodie from earlier, which he had grabbed almost as soon as The Monster brought it out. When The Monster asked, he admitted he liked it, and Papyrus didn’t blame him, instantly fond of the green sweater he had finally been put in. The thick fabric was strange to get used to, yet comforting, it’s weight not enough to hinder his movement but material enough to shield him from the cold. With The Monster’s added warmth, the brief trip to the restaurant had been comfortable, save for the eyes peering at them.

The Monster offered the kids a smile, and said, “I’ll just be in the other room. Let me know if you need anything.”

Papyrus smiled back and nodded, and as The Monster’s attention went elsewhere, he once again scooted closer to Sans, then pitched his full weight against him. He heard Sans give a little sharp breath, and wasn’t certain, for a moment, if it was a sigh, a scoff, or the hint of a chuckle. He was answered when the older boy leaned into him in response, skeletal hands prodding his ribs through the fabrics he was wrapped in. Papyrus stifled a laugh in response, knowing that once Sans heard it he’d be doomed, and tried to attack the older skeleton back, but Sans already had him half pinned, and the blanket kept getting in his way. After a just a few moments of this, he was left breathless, finally succumbing to laughter and jamming his elbow into Sans’ shoulder until finally he rolled over exaggeratedly and flopped down next to Papyrus. 

Papyrus felt the warmth of satisfaction in his ribcage. He knew he hadn’t won the little fight, but Sans was smiling now, the tension in his body sinking with his body into the cushions below. Papyrus hit him again, playfully, to get his attention before Sans fell asleep as he was prone to. However, once Sans was looking at him Papyrus felt a little doubtful. He was going to ruin this, wasn’t he? Sans closed his eyes, figuring Papyrus had just shoved him on general principle.

“SANS?”

“yeah, pap?”

“I…” 

Sans peered at him.

“I… WANT-T TO STAY HERE. A-ARE WE-?”

Sans sighed, his expression falling, but not as much as Papyrus had expected. He thought his brother’s eyes would go blue, that he’d be grabbed, pulled into a too-tight or too-stiff embrace, that Sans’ would start picking at himself or, most likely, that he would tell Papyrus to stop speaking. Instead, Sans just looked distant, and limp in a way that didn’t imply relaxation.

“i don’t know, pap…” he said, rolling unto his side facing his brother, “i don’t think leaving is really an option.”

At that Papyrus felt a jolt of adrenaline.

“WHY?” He demanded, voice wavering.

“the monster is watching us and to are… others. i don’t think we’d make it if we tried to run again. they caught us last time.”

Papyrus frowned, surprised by what side of the discussion he now seemed to be on, “B-BUT YOU COULDN’T _MOVE_ LAST TIME OR SHIFT!”

“yeah, that’s true…” Sans said, voice a little doubtful, “i can shift now, but i don’t think i can _move_ us both.”

“BUT-T AT THE L-LAB YOU…” Papyrus trailed off, conflicted. He was happy to hear that his brother thought they were staying, since The Monster was being so nice to them, but he had assumed that they had an easy way to escape now that their magic had mostly recovered.

“it’s more difficult now,” Sans said, brow ridge creasing, “when i _moved_ away from the monster earlier i felt drained and that was only a little way.”

A small silence, then, “W-WELL, I LIKE IT HERE…”

The boys moved closer together. Sans’ constant state of exhaustion bred with Papyrus’ uncharacteristic fatigue, and soon they had their arms wrapped around each other, resting in much the same way they had in the lab when the bedding was thin and scratchy, barely more comforting then the bare floor. Papyrus had nearly lapsed into unconsciousness when Sans spoke, his voice a thin and dreamy sigh.

“i do too.”

\---

Grillby checked in on the boys impulsively at first, glancing from a distance so as not to disturb them until they settled down together for another nap. He smiled when they played a little, then quickly returned to his work. All he had to do was take inventory and throw out the food that had rotted, and he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. It was only a few minutes before he heard Grillby’s door open, and he felt a brief moment of panic until he realized it was Lesser Dog.

“Hi Lesser,” he said, “Are you on guard duty today?”

She nodded, and almost automatically Grillby started making her the usual. He stopped himself halfway through and looked at her, and she flicked her ears at him nonchalantly. He smiled in response, feeling surprisingly comfortable despite the difficulties in communication and their interactions so far, just relieved she wasn’t a neighbor. He passed the hot beverage to her, and the dog took a careful sip, then looked at him and let loose a gentle whine.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…” He said, sadly, prompting her to sneeze derisively. She stood, and walked into the back, Grillby following from a distance. Finally, she peered into the rec room and then pulled back, going back to the front of the restaurant and sitting down in her usual spot. Grillby nodded to himself and resumed his work, humming to himself as he did so.

When he was done, he went in and woke the children, telling them in was time to go home. Papyrus allowed Grillby to pick him up easily, actually reaching out and grabbing on to the elemental, while Sans, as ever, was a little more hesitant. He got up on his own and walked beside Grillby through the building, but stopped suddenly when he laid eyes on the dog. Suddenly, he was reaching up, and Grillby bent down without complaint to scoop him up. Immediately, he was as close to Papyrus as he could manage, and the elemental frowned at Lesser apologetically.

She just flicked her ears, getting up as Grillby approached the door. Again, he went through the public space quickly, without looking around him. He was certain a few people noticed him, it was hard not to, but tried to avoid as much attention as possible anyway. He went into his own house with a sense of relief, jumping a little when his door didn’t close behind him, and turned to find Lesser in the way.

“Sorry,” he said, but she didn’t seem offended. Putting the kids down, they retreated quickly to the couch and huddled there together. The rest of the day passed uneventfully until Lesser left a few hours later, though with a marked increase in nervousness from the children. They were quiet, seeming as though they were napping more Grillby could tell they weren’t asleep, and his attempts to interact with them met with very little success.

After the dog left, things relaxed again. Papyrus asked about pets again over diner, his interest in them amusing Grillby slightly. Sometime during the conversation, Sans finally interjected.

“what do you train a pet to do?”

“Depends on what kind of pet you have,” Grillby said, “Tisi used to keep snakes and we never trained them to do anything.”

“WHO’S TISI?”

Grillby faltered. For a moment, he had the distinct feeling of suffocation, both children looking at him. Papyrus was wide eyed, innocent, the posterchild of youth while Sans merely observed from his peripheral vision. He hadn’t even realized he’d said it until Papyrus pointed it out, he hadn’t meant to, and now struggled to answer. Would Papyrus ask what a wife was? It seemed likely. And then what? He didn’t want to go down those dark rabbit holes with the boys just now, but also didn’t want to be dishonest.

“She… Died.” He ventured, watching the kids closely. They didn’t have much of a reaction, Papyrus already frowning the moment Grillby’s expression shifted, and Sans was Sans.

“OH.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Just to let you guys know, I think the update schedule is going to move to ~once a week on Fridays. I'm hoping to update more often then that, but I'm currently looking for a full time summer job in bio research, and when I need to find one in a 30 mile radius of the middle of nowhere it takes most of my time. XD


	26. Twilighttown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Bailey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  * The word "Coot" dances in Grillby's vision.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Hiya, Hass-Conills here. What’s up?”

“Hey Bonnie, sorry it took me so long to call back.” Grillby said, guiltily looking at the clock. He said he’d only need a moment, but most of the day had passed since their last conversation. “I hope this isn’t too late?”

“This is Bailey, actually, Grillz.” Said the voice on the other end, the difference evident as soon as she spoke more than one line at a time, “Why does everyone say that? Anyway, Bon’s reading Cinnamon a bedtime story right now, but if you want I can take a message for her.”

“Thanks. I just wanted to call to say that we were still on for the reunion.”

“Oh, really? That’s awesome, Grillz.” Bailey said, her voice unsurprised but gaining an extra little cheer, “You sure you can make it work?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright, cool. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Any chance of you doing some damage control on your niece and sister for me?”

“Sure thing,” Bailey said, clicking her tongue, “It’ll cost you, though.”

“Let me guess,” Grillby chuckled, “Information?”

“Yep.” The shopkeeper replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t pass it on. I just want to hear the real story behind the fresh faces before you and the dogs figure out a good lie.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t gimme that, Grillz. You’re an honest man, for the most part, I think…” Bailey’s voice was friendly, but firm, “Whatever’s going on, no one but you and the guards are to know the truth after a few days. Maybe the docs from Waterfall? Heard you had ‘em out, too.”

“Oh, uh…”

“Shoot,” Bailey said, “Grillz, I’m sorry. That must sound, erm, mighty aggressive. I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll help settle Bun and Bon down regardless of if you tell me anything or not, I just wanted to assert me interest is all. Figure you could use another someone on the inside, anyway, if what I think is going in is going on.”

“What do you think is going on?” Grillby asked, slyly.

“Oh no you don’t, you old coot. I’m not falling for that.”

“Falling for what?” Grillby said faking innocent, then, with some genuine vexation, “Coot?”

Bailey sighed on the other end of the line, “Not that, either. Don’t try to distract me, and yes, coot. You’re a coot, Grillz. I don’t know how to break it to you.”

“I am not a coot.” Grillby said, his flames shifting self-consciously, “am I?”

“For surface sake! I’ve honestly offended you, now?”

“Well, no…” Grillby said, embarrassed, “I’m just – Coot? What does that even mean?”

“I thought it meant eccentric old man, but the way you’re reacting I feel like I might be wrong?” Bailey said. 

Her voice had barely changed from its fruity, pleasant tone the entire conversation, her emotivism ever present but very subtle. She was not a person you wanted reading a children’s book, at least not to children, because she wouldn’t do the voices energetically enough, yet was still overall very pleasant to talk to. She and Grillby has an ongoing correspondence, irregular enough to still be fairly formal and unfamiliar with each other, but comfortable enough that she’s occasionally toss him the odd pickup line. Nothing beyond the usual “howdy, hot stuff” the bartender was used to, but enough Grillby actually had impression she might be interested. Not that he was interested in her, necessarily, but “old coot” caught him off guard.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, it was just something to say.” Bailey added, “I thought it sounded charming.”

He could take charming. Grillby cleared his throat, straightening himself and his clothing even though the house was dark and the children were in bed. Regardless of if anyone could see him, he suddenly felt the need to look as professional as he could in a Hawaiian shirt and his pajama bottoms, as he had gotten halfway to bed before realizing he needed to make the call. Suddenly, it struck him that he was preparing for bed at the same time as the woman on the other end’s step-nephew, and he was forced to swallow his pride. He could even take charming old man, he told himself. It was accurate.

“Grillz, you still there?”

“Yes, I am. Sorry.” He replied.

“Cool,” Bailey responded, “Anyway, about the skeletons?”

“Right. Huh.” 

Grillby had forgotten his plan to distract her from the topic or at least keep from giving her too much information. She was right, he was an honest man and lies did not suit him. He had to plan ahead for anything falsehood he couldn’t immediately deem as for the greater good, but as a result was rather skilled at leading people away from the answers he didn’t want to give. Now, though, he was stuck.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone, Bailey?”

“I’ll swear on the Delta Ruin if you want me to. Got one right here on my necklace.”

“That’s quite alright,” Grillby replied, having his own feelings on both the prophecy and the royal family that he didn’t often voice. The fact that she was willing was enough.

“Their names are Sans and Papyrus. How much did you hear from the townsfolk?”

“Not much. Just know you’ve been AWOL from the local ice rink lately and today you were seen walking around with two skeletons acting all cagey.”

“Alright, then I guess I better start at the beginning,” Grillby said, smiling at the term “ice rink”. It was something they had joked about a couple times in the past, since the bar in Waterfall was called “The Watering Hole” and the one in Hotland was “The Fire Pit”. With that, he gave the rabbit woman a very much abbreviated version of events, carefully glossing over the majority of things concerning hand plates, battles, and boss monsters. The entire time, Bailey was quiet, giving only minimal responses when Grillby paused to confirm she was still listening. Halfway though, he noticed Bailey acting oddly, her odd behavior growing as time went by.

“Yes, yes,” She said once he finished, her tone stressing slightly higher than normal, “That’s very interesting Uncle Lapine. We’ll see you later this week, alright? For the reunion? No, it’s this week. _This_ week. Yes. Correct, so we’ll see you then? Wonderful, goodby- No, I haven’t heard the one about… Alright, alright, just give me a moment…”

Grillby heard her cover the mouthpiece of the receiver as she continued speaking, “Poor ol’ boy needs someone to talk to. I think Buck and Doe must be out on a little date or something, so I’m just going to step outside while he tells me this one last story about “the old days”, you know? Keep him company and not wake the kids.”

A brief pause, then, “Sorry about that, Grillz. Bun and Bon were in the room and I didn’t feel like we were really done talking. I mean, shit, those poor boys...”

“Yeah,” Grillby responded, not entirely in the mood for the whole song and dance in that moment. He had to get ready for tomorrow, which he feared would be the end of both him and Sans combined considering how they seemed to play off each other. Not literally, of course, but it was still going to be eventful under the best of circumstances.

“Hold on a moment,” Bailey said, and after just a few seconds of her breathing rather heavily into the receiver Grillby heard a gentle knock on his door. He walked over to it and opened it by one disbelieving hair, and sure enough, there in the snow stood Bailey, who hung up the phone with a quiet beep as soon as he answered.

“Hiya,” she breathed, “Sorry, I’ve just always favored talking in person, and, uh… We are neighbors and all. Plus, it’s as cold as in icedrake’s armpit out here.”

“No problem,” Grillby said, opening his door to let her in and wondering why she was wearing a tank top and sunhat if she thought it was so cold out. He might be a coot, but she was far more of the eccentric, he decided. She walked in quickly, arms folded over each other and rubbing for a moment to banish the chill collected from the Snowdin night air.

“They in bed?” She asked, and Grillby nodded, “Good, they deserve a good long rest I imagine. Hope you gave them extra blankets, egh? Don’t want them getting chilled to the bone?”

Grillby offered an unconvincing half-smile in exchange, and Bailey frowned in response.

“What? No sense of humor today? Thought you’d be rolling on the floor if you’re in the mood for that getup.” Grillby’s turn to frown, and Bailey continued, “Again? I’m batting 1000 today… I like it, even if it’s a bit unconventional. Nice to see you relaxed a little, actually, you should borrow my hat sometime.”

“Bailey, are you alright?” Grillby asked. He hadn’t noticed earlier on the phone, but seeing her in person Bailey seemed higher-strung than usual, nervous and chatty.

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m fine Grillz, and your sure don’t need any more stress. It’s just…” Bailey went silent for a moment and she gaped. When she spoke again, it was clear and desperate, “They won’t leave me alone. There are thirteen people in my house right now and _none_ of them will leave me _alone_. I mean, normally, I go hide at your ice rink around the time of the reunions, you know? I’d accuse you of not understanding, but Bunbun’s been back in town for what, five days and she’s already gotten herself under your skin. And Bonnie’s the same as she’s ever been – you know I love my sister to death and normally tolerate her without issue – but damn! She’s a lot harder to take when I have no escape to have time to myself. My room have three people sleeping in it right now, and when I try to go to work someone always offers to go with me, and then….”

Grillby couldn’t help but grin, “I can sympathize.”

“Anyway, I’m so sorry to have rambled at you…” She said, looking suddenly shamefaced, “We’re here to talk about your problems, not mine.”

“They’re hardly problems,” Grillby said, “In fact they’re incredibly good kids if not for the panic attacks and the eeriness.”

“I didn’t mean to imply-” Bailey stopped short, eyes widening with realization, “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Just a bit.”

“Heh. Anyway, do you, uh… Do you think I could have a drink?”

“No, sorry Bailey.” Grillby replied.

“You mean to tell me you don’t have any alcohol in this joint? Grillz, you’re a bartender.”

“I never said that,” Grillby said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh.”

“I can bring you some hot chocolate, if you want.” Grillby offered, “Or milk, or tea… Water?”

“Tea would be great, thank you.”

Grillby stepped into the kitchen and made her some tea. When he came back, she was perched on the edge of his sofa, seated sideways in such a way that she could glance up at his shelves. He noticed necklace then, and her shorts, making him wonder again what she possibly meant by cold. This was her usual attire, too, he’s talked to her in blizzards with her dressed like that. She jumped a little, when he handed her the tea, and thanked him. For convention, Grillby held an empty mug, his normal changeling beverage ruled out due to his company.

“Lovely house you have, Grillby.” She said, taking a little sip, “I wouldn’t expect anything less. And the tea is wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she paused, “You know it really never was an issue. Bonnie was just worried I was going to follow in the footsteps of our mother… I really never got in trouble. Nice little bunny girl from Snowdin and everyone makes assumptions, few well-placed words, and then I’m set up to make a week’s wage to fund my travels just by drinking some rich, snobby suckers under the table.”

Grillby didn’t respond. Heats ran a similar scam sometimes, only his was more inherently sensible. Biological monsters, however, needed to build up a tolerance to alcohol. If Bailey _was_ drinking other monsters under the table – the sort of monsters who thought a drinking competition was a grand idea – then she had to have been getting herself into trouble at one point or another. Not that he should really say, he’d never seen her do more than nurse something light over the course of an hour or so, sometimes with some fries or whatever desert, while chatting with him and listening to the juke, leaving, probably, with less than even a warmth in her stomach. She had been a regular who made small talk with the other patrons, until the day Bonnie burst in and started yelling, at her, at him, at anyone who didn’t immediately hide, it seemed. After that, they saw each other less often, making a point to talk whenever he went to her store. Taking another sip of tea, she leaned back and muttered something about him being right under her breath before speaking up.

“Anyway,” She said, “About Sans and Pape-”

“Papyrus.”

“Sans and Papyrus. Thanks. Do you have any idea what you’re going to tell everyone else at this point, though? I mean, it sounds like you need to keep it awful hush-hush, considering that you have no idea who “The Doctor” is, and with Snowdin being what it is, everyone in town’s going to know about them within a couple days.”

“I don’t know,” Grillby said, honestly, “I really hadn’t thought about it. I wish I had.”

“Well, lucky for you you’ve got a shopkeeper on your side. We’re masters of gossip.” Bailey said, “Give me a story to sell and I’ll seed it in the masses to propagate as they will.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” Grillby said.

“What? You want to keep the kids safe, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you don’t have much of an option then, do you?”

“I guess… I’m not real good at this sort of thing, though.”

“You don’t have to be. I know the perfect cover story for you, Grillz. Sensitive enough no one is likely to bring it up to the kids except other kids, in which case any errors that are made aren’t likely to get you found out, and but interesting enough that it’ll take off-FFFFPHT”

Bailey started laughing, her mouth covered to muffle the noise. She looked happy and mortified at the same time, the tips of her ears bouncing as the beats of her laughter ran through them, and seeing her like that Grillby couldn’t help but smile. When she settled, she apologized, then explained, “I was about to say that it’ll take off like wildfire.”

Grillby slowly brought his forehead to his hand and sighed, mockingly rubbing his temples as he glanced at her with a grin.

“That was terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s the story?” Grillby said, sobering, “Do I even want to know?”

“I figured we’d start a rumor based off of what I first thought was happening,” Bailey said, “I mean, it’s what I naturally assumed, you know?”

“I still don’t know what that it?”

“Right. So, you’ll need to fact check me on this before we claim this as our story, but I used to work with this tortoise monster for a while when I was living in Waterfall. Big old hulking dude who used to be the royal guard captain, I guess. He even lived on the surface for a few years, as I understand, he’s that much of a geezer.”

“Gerson?”

“Yeah, how’d you know? You don’t strike me as the ‘Waterfall’ type, Grillby.”

“You’d be surprised.” Grillby said, distant, then, “Me and Gerson go way back.”

“Huh. You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.” Bailey said, her tone neutral enough Grillby couldn’t tell if it was polite, interested, or dismissive, “Anyway, he, um…”

“Yes?” Grillby prompted, noticing Bailey’s sudden unease.

“Hey, Grillz, I just… I don’t know anything about this stuff. So if I’m being offensive or anything just haul off and slap me or something, right?”

“Or something. Got it.”

“Well, I figure they’re skeleton monsters, right? And Gerson told me that skeletons can be… Made? If you like take an elemental and-”

“Oh.” Grillby realized what she was implying.

“Yeah. See, with that story it would make sense that you’re taking care of them, and also that could be why there’s an investigation going on since they really are just children. Plus, it would account for any social issues they have and, while I hate to say it Grillz, it people think that they’re are cores bound to bone they’re more likely to gossip about “those two poor elemental boys the bartender found abused and abandoned” then they are to use the word “skeleton”, you know?”

“How would it account for any social issues?” Grillby said, bristling. Bailey didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, if those two were summoned and bound illegally, then wouldn’t it make sense that their summoner would want to cover it up? Look, it makes just about as much sense as the actual story we have here, Grillz.”

“Yeah,” Grillby was not happy, but he added, “We could even add… Or imply, rather, that maybe they have signs of someone trying to banish them…”

Bailey gave a little pained gasp then nodded, “Perfect! That way all the hush-hush makes sense, even if it continues for years… It’s a good detail to toss in vaguely for people to pick up on. If I give this story to Bun and Bon, it’ll be done and they’ll stop bugging you. You alright with that? I mean, if we change our minds and want to give out a different tale, it’s pretty easy to say I misunderstood, you know? Unlike some people I have a reputation of pretense to maintain, instead of being Mrs. Honesty all the time, right Grillz?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Bailey paused, “You alright, Grillby?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Grillby said, staring into his empty cup, “Just a little nauseated.”

\---

Papyrus did _not_ want to get up in the morning, but he let The Monster move him anyway, if only because the heat billowing from his body was comforting. Sans didn’t seem to fair much better, but he was Sans, so that was normal. With both children half asleep at the table, time seemed to pass almost instantaneously for them. 

Another bowl of oatmeal set before him, the younger skeleton spooned it into his gullet numbly, only to make an involuntary noise of satisfaction. The Monster had added more cinnamon to the mix this time, and the still mild substance didn’t upset his stomach as he was expecting but rather quieted it. Besides, it was warm. Sans seemed to have a similar notion, though he was more reserved about it, eating in silence, but finishing his portion in a quicker manner then was usual. Papyrus, meanwhile only ate half his portion before slowing, looking at The Monster for guidance.

The Monster seemed nervous today, taking their unused bowls away from them a bit quicker than normal, before seeming to suddenly realize he hadn’t brought them anything to drink. While he was busy filling their glasses, Sans stood and moved towards the sink, but when The Monster turned he pressed one of Sans’ shoulder’s gently, steering the boy back towards the table. Sans went, with a little apprehensive frown, but pulled himself back into his chair without issue.

“I need to talk to you boys,” The Monster said, setting the glasses before them, “Because I have a big event I need to host in a couple days and that means we need to work out what happens to you, as well as do a little shopping, probably. Okay?”

Sans looked at Papyrus apprehensively, with the wrinkled, bossy expression he usually wore. Sans just looked uncertain, and with a sudden jolt of insight the younger boy realized what was happening. _He_ was the hopeful one, and Sans was finally trying to have hope in this situation. _He_ was the one supposed to speak now, because Sans knew he couldn’t give the _right_ answers.

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Papyrus asked, his own nerves betraying him as he tried to rise to the occasion.

“Do you remember the bunny woman?” The Monster asked before the boy nodded in response, “Her family is having a party and they want to have it as my restaurant in two days. That means that I either need to find someone to watch you guys here while I host it, or you need to stay with me. Now, if you wanted to try to say hi to some of the guests, I’m sure they’d love it, but it’s probably a much better idea for you to stay in the back.”

“in the rec room like yesterday?” Sans asked, his comment revealing his preference.

“Yes. I wouldn’t let any other monsters back there, but you would have to stay the entire day and it might get rather noisy, depending on what activities the rabbits are doing.”

Sans looked at Papyrus with a tight expression. From beneath the table there were popping noises, and Papyrus knew he didn’t want to know what the noise was from. There was a pause, Papyrus stuck frowning at his brother, before he flinched.

“AND… WE-E GET TO CHOOSE WHICH?”

“Yes,” The Monster said patiently.

“WE WANT TO STAY IN THE REC ROOM.”

“Really?” The Monster said, pausing and looking at Sans for a moment before he seemed to accept Papyrus’ answer. “Alright, in that case we’ll have to go shopping, which means that we’re going to have to go to a store with other monsters in it. I was hoping we could leave within the hour.”

“WHY?”

“Why are we going shopping?” Grillby said, then not waiting for a response after Papyrus’ expression, continued, “Well, you and Sans need proper clothes, especially some shoes. If you’re going to go to and from work with me regularly, it would be nice if I didn’t have to carry you every time. At least not both of you. Plus, I was thinking we’d look at some paint samples and maybe take a quick look at toys, depending on how much time it takes to find you clothes.”

Papyrus frowned and ran his fingertips over the knitting of his sweater silently, while Sans shifted in his seat as well. Neither of the children wanted to give up what they currently were wearing, not realizing how ill-fitting the baggy tops were, nor how inappropriate the various pajama bottoms they’d been clad in since their arrival were for general usage.

“You can keep what you’re currently wearing, too. It’s just…” Grillby sensed their unease and tried to offer comfort, but found himself stuck on how to explain himself, falling lamely to saying, “Other monsters are going to think I’m neglecting you if I don’t get you into something better to wear. Besides, I’d like to get you some other clothing, particularly proper coats so I don’t have to worry about you two when you go outside.”

In return, he got blank and worried stares. Papyrus eventually forced a little smile for The Monster, reminding himself that he was the hopeful one. From across the table, steady thumps and jolts across the wooden surface betrayed Sans kicking the sturdy wooden leg as hard as he could muster. It stopped when the boy gave a little startled gasp, leaning over and collapsing on the table. Papyrus leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder.

“SANS?”

The older boy tried waving him away, but Papyrus caught his hand. After a moment of struggle, Sans’ hand went limp and he sighed, before squeezing his brother’s hand back. Watching the exchange, Grillby frowned, a sense of trepidation gnawing at his core as it grew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, this is it. This is the start of my becoming super-woman and working on my summer goals, which I'm going to list here just so that they're _somewhere_ , you know? Anyways, here they are:  
> 1) Get ready to be superwoman.  
> \--Clean living space  
> \--Organize E-mail and computer files  
> \--Fix online presence  
> 2) Get summer job, preferably in biological sciences  
> 3) Begin work on novel - Probably one I have planned with the working title "Vampire Max". It's about a vampire. Named Max. Yeah. Basically, the idea is to have a horrible Twilight/Hush Hush style supernatural romance from the point of view of our supernatural male, only to have it be a case of when our human romantic interest learns about all the shit he's in, she's like, "Yeah, I'm out. Got my own plans for my future and shit, son", but Max continues to basically stalk her and stuff. Then things happen. And more things.  
> 4) Begin work on a blog. Like, a real one, with actual content and stuff. (Probably on Blogger, though if you folks have any other platforms to recommend I'd love to hear them).  
> 5) Continue with my fanfictions. I'm hoping to finish this one by the end of summer, but... Erm... I currently don't think that's going to happen. We're currently transitioning from the first to second story arch right now, with the second one hitting ~Chapter 30ish. Currently, I have three arches planned for this, with the third one potentially turning into two. Expect at least one update a week on Friday, potentially more depending on how things go.  
> EDIT: I forgot to add #6, which is a vague "Get Fit". I'm not... BAD right now. But I could stand to loose many pounds and start exercising since my life has become awful sedentary lately. I either want to get to where I can jog ~3 miles without dying or get down to 130-140 pounds again. You know, about 10 stone. Right now I'm about 12 stone, and while I can walk for miles and don't have any serious health issues, I can only run a few hundred feet before I start panting.


	27. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping shopping shop. shop til you drop, cop. Soda pop! MOP TOP, kippler stop, body in EUROPE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry if I've been neglecting the comments section lately... I'm having some issues which is why this update is half-assed and late. I'm just pretty sick and things are doing the stuff, yeah? Shit this don't makes ense. Anyway, here's a little half chapter and I'll try to update before Friday with another chapter as well as resume our regularly sceduled programning. Hoi!
> 
> I really like you guys who read my shit and I'm sorry I'm shit but I assure you I feel like shit both becuase I am shit and becuame i am down with the sickness.
> 
> AH SHIT RIGHT HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO ANY OF YOU MOTHERS, YEAH? Though I'm guessing most of you folks aren't mothers yourself, still, if your mama exists and isn't a horrible person gve her some love. If she doesn't exist I'm really sorry and I'm a horrible person. I am really reall ysorry.
> 
> at least we all have gpat mom.

It was the phone that woke him. Not the ringer, but the steady, ubiquitous buzz of the vibration gyrating against his desk. It was difficult for him to place himself at first, but as soon as he recognized the rough carpeting pressed against his face he understood. He was in his office. One of them, at least. He pushed himself up a little ways and surveyed his surroundings.

There was a bowl of candy on the dark polished top of his desk, and the chair behind it was a relatively grand thing with leather padding. Top office, then. The one everyone knew about.

Gaster groaned as he stood, his entire body aching as his head swam and he stumbled forward. Bracing himself against the chair other monsters sat in, he wondered briefly why in god’s name he didn’t make his way to the settee he had been lying next to. Maybe he had, he thought, and fallen off of it during the… night? 

Had it been the night?

No, he recalled, grabbing the phone from the table. There were people. He looks at the settee suspiciously and remembers being afraid of them, but it doesn’t strike him at all that he remembers being afraid because he’s too busy trying to figure out what time it is. What day it is.

It’s Thursday. As if that really helped him. He doesn’t recognize the number calling him but answers anyway, taking great effort to speak as clearly as possible.

“H̴̴̷ȩ̶̡l̷̨̛̕l̴̢͟o̴̷̧͠͞,̷̛͜͜ ̧͘͝t͠h́̀͢͝͝ì̸͘͜ś̨̢̕͠ ͟͠͏͞͡i͏̷s͏̶̷̸̡ ̶̢͜͡W̡͠.̸̷͘ ́͟͟D̵͢.̶́̀͡ ҉̷̢͞G҉̸͜͟a͡҉̵́͝s҉̕҉t̢̀̀e̶͢͡r̵̢̛,҉̵͘ ̷̧̕͟R̵͏̴̧͝o̷̕y̧͟a̛͟͞l̴͞͝͠ ̵̢͘͞͞S̷̡͘͜͢c̡͘͢í̡͡͝ę҉n̢͞t̛i͘͡͞͏s̶̨͠t͝͞ ̷̸̴̨͘a̸̛͜͠͡n̵̡d͡ ̀́Ṕ́͘͟͞r̵̕͘͞i͘͠n̴̛͡҉͘c̷̛͜i̴͜͡p̸̀͝ą̡͏͟l͞͠ ̡̛́͠I̴҉̨̀ǹ̡͞v̵̡̛́̀e͏̸̕͜͞s̡̧͘͢͠t̨̨͠i҉̧҉g̢̛a̕͏t̢̀͘o̢͠r҉̶̶͝ ̢͟ò͏̶̕͞f̨̧̀͜҉ ͟H́̕ò͘̕̕͝ţ̸͞͞l̸̡a̶̶͘ń̴̴͠͏d̵̵̕̕͡ ̶̶̛L̡͢ą̶̴̢b͞҉͢͏o̸̵͘͟r̡͢͝a͜͝t͞ơ͟r̴̴̢͘̕i̸҉ę̴s̀͝.̛͡ ̵̵̡̕͝W̶̶h̶̢͏̸á̵͜t͢͝ ̸̢͟͝i̡͟s̶̀͟͝ ̶͢͝t҉̢͘h̵̷͝ę͟ ͟n̡͟͡a̵̵̵͘̕t͏̸̢̢ų̢́r̶̨̨̕͡e̵͝ ̕͢͠o̵͘͘͟͢f͏̧̕ ̡͟y̷̨͜͠͏ò̵̢u̶͞r̵̶͢͝ ̢̀̕͠ì̸͘̕͠n̷̵̵̨q́̀͘͝ư͠i̛͟͜͞r̨҉͢y̴̡?̛͘͝”

His voice doesn’t sound like him, even too him. On the other end of the line there is no response, and after a few minutes he checked his phone impatiently. Whoever they were, they just hung up, because he ended up just staring at his own home screen. Pointless. He tried to suppress his irritation and went to sit at his desk. There, he found the note and read it quickly, before crumpling it and tossing it into the trash.

He didn’t have time for such nonsense. He knew that sometimes – rarely – he would slip up and start getting sentimental about his work. It had happened with S for the longest time, but eventually he had the power to correct himself. And correct the subject. He guessed that was what happened earlier. He’d worked too hard on his latest project and it gotten to him a little, hadn’t it?

Gaster sighed and rubbed his temples. How long had he been up before he passed out on the floor? He couldn’t actually remember, but more inconveniently he was still tired. A part of him wished the phone hadn’t woken him, but a larger portion of him scorned that part. He was so close… He just had to focus. Keep moving forward.

He reached out for his folder on his projects and paused, staring at his own hand. For just a moment he has imagined he saw a hole in the middle of it, but as he brought it closer for observation he realized it was an optical trick of the light. The dents seemed deeper, though, the added shadow aided to the momentary illusion. He ran a figure tip over the interior of one curiously, wondering what had happened. A little trickle of dust followed his movement. Then more. It looked like it should hurt, but at the moment a diffuse pain was his existence, and the area currently evaporating before him felt no worse than anywhere else.

Hmm. He hadn’t been expecting that to happen. Interesting.

In his pocket, his phone started vibrating.

\---

“Okay,” Grillby said quietly to himself for about the eighth time in as many minutes. It was a meaningless word in this situation, really, said on reflex to himself as he bordered between thinking out loud. He was problem solving, or trying to, and the two skeleton’s in question didn’t seem to understand the problem.

“Okay,” he said finally, a bit louder this time as he came to his solution. Neither child responded now, playing vaguely with their clothing and likely figuring that his word was another self-assurance, and he felt a flicker of irritation that he quickly and quietly smothered. “Boys?”

Instantly, Sans and Papyrus’ attention snapped to him.

“So, um… We’re going to go to Twilighttown, okay?” Grillby had decided on the extra length of the journey due to Twilighttown’s population. It was the only cave inhabited primarily by nocturnal and crepuscular monsters, and because of that had a shocking number of amenities despite its fairly small size and hosted one of, if not the only, department stores in the underground. Additionally, the town locals’ habits would mean that most of them would be going to bed by the time he and the boys arrived, resulting in a nearly deserted store. They’d have to be reasonably quick, though, if he wanted to avoid the crowds that came later in the day.

“And in order to do that we need to go through a few regions of Snowdin that are… Less than perfectly maintained. And you two don’t have shoes, so I’m going to have to carry you guys.” Grillby rubbed the back of his neck, “I was hoping that you, Papyrus, would be willing to ride on my back while I properly carry Sans. That way I’ll still have one free hand for doors and the like.”

“O-OKAY?” Papyrus said, seemingly worried by this announcement. 

Grillby sighed, trying to contain his agitation and stooped to pick up the child. Papyrus’ limbs splayed in confusion as he was brought over the elemental’s head, only to be settled moments later on his shoulders. Grillby could feel his weight wobble precariously when he tried to let go and, more out of concern than anything else having envisioned the child’s delicate skull contacting with the floor, snapped, “Hold on, will you!”

The quiet that followed should have been imperceptible, but instead was definite in its change. The room was suddenly tense, but instead of dwelling on it and letting the mood of the room seep into his behavior Grillby pressed forward. He apologized quickly, then tried to continue in a cheerful manner.

“Sorry,” He said, “Just hold on to me, okay?” 

Gradually, the child’s boney arms came forward, wrapping shyly around the top of Grillby’s head as the child adjusted, “Yeah, that’ll work. Perfect. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Then, gripping the child’s legs as he stood, Grillby took a short walk around the room. He noticed Sans scrutinizing him, and felt as though there were a dark glint in the depths of the child’s black eye sockets. Papyrus’ grip tightened and lessened fretfully, before he seemed to gain enough balance and stability to even out.

“Are you alright like that, Papyrus?”

“Y-YEAH…?”

“Okay, cool.” Grillby sat on the couch for a moment, quickly adjusting his rain boots. One of his feet hadn’t seated quite properly and this had led to a bit of unsteadiness for the elemental. With that sorted, he gestured to the older child and headed for the door. As Sans approached stood at the threshold between house and snow, Grillby scooped the boy up in his arms and started walking at a brisk pace to the lesser travelled caves. He ignored the way Sans tensed and shifted in his arms, determined to get to the warmer caves quickly. He put the child down with a huff several minutes later, the quiet blue-green glow of the cave mushroom lighting the narrow cavern they stood in. It wasn’t that children were heavy, they were fairly light and Grillby was a fit man, but they were just large enough that it was awkward to manage their mass effectively.

Breathing deeply, Grillby asked Sans, “Can you walk from here?”

Sans shot him a downright snotty expression for once, which quickly fell as the child is the child looked down to the cavern floor. There was only a hint of frustration as the boy voiced, “i could’ve walked from the beginning.”

“Nope.” Grillby said, hoping to earn another incredulous reaction from the child, “You’re feet would’ve frozen off.”

The look Sans gave him was priceless, and the old elemental couldn’t help but chuckle at the combination of confusion and scorn the comment earned him. He was happy to take some ill-mannered looks from the child, just so long as he was expressing something without trying to hide it. Still, the expression was vaguely reminiscent of betrayal and the elemental decided it would be best to lay off the antagonization for a while. Grillby shifted his focus to the child on his shoulders, most of whose weight was now resting directly on Grillby’s head causing a slight pain from compression throughout the elemental’s neck.

“Papyrus? How’s it going up there?”

“…GOOD.”

“Could you maybe sit back just a little?” The child shifted almost imperceptibly, and Grillby shifted his grip to the boy’s would-be calfs, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. See?”

The boy eased back slowly, but eventually and to Grillby’s great relief sat squarely on the elemental’s shoulders. Beginning to move forward, he turned and waited for Sans to find the other boy staring up at his brother with a wondering expression.

“Sans?” Grillby prompted.

The boy glanced to Grillby before coming forward, stopping once he was only a couple paces behind the man and slightly to the right. Grillby smiled at the boy and held out his hand, and the boy reached forward, pausing just before making contact. Grillby’s forehead knotted as a lone fingertip tapped against his wrist, the child’s arm positioned to high and wavering, unsteady as if the boy was frightened or uncertain. Then Sans pulled back a little, his entire posture shifting as he stopped, arm still half extended, and looked up at the elemental. Gently, Grillby reached forward until he was able to grab the child’s hand, watching the boy for a change in expression. After a moment’s pause, and they moved on.

\---

It was him, alright. Only about six times as slovenly and six times as timeworn as he remembered himself. Gaster looked at his reflection judgmentally. His eyes were dark, hollow, and lifeless. The rest of him was much the same. He was relieved to have a coat in his office, because his shirt was filthy, riddled with stains and wrinkled.

Ha had gone home recently, hadn’t he? Gaster tried to remember, but everything except the memories of his project was a blur. He couldn’t care enough to remember when he’d last taken care of himself. Nothing else mattered, but he knew he was pushing himself too hard at this point. He had to take a break now, the white powder on his desk proved that.

If he dusted, who would be there to move forward? He focused on that thought to motivate himself to continue, knowing it was inevitable that he would interact with someone during his travels.

Gaster straightened himself and tried to look as intimidating as possible. When drawn to his full height, he was rather tall for a monster, and often had used this to his advantage. Now he just had to get through the lab without anyone trying to stop him for conversation or another useless endeavor. He didn’t imagine it would be an issue – it was early in the morning and the only people who would be in were the lowly lab rat interns that had never known him back in the good days. They wouldn’t dare get in his way.

He felt his phone vibrate again and frowned.

\---

Sans kept staring at the glowing hand that encased his own, easily dwarfing it. When he wasn’t looking at that, he was gazing up at his brother, perched atop The Monster’s shoulders like some great skeletal bird. That is until he heard the sound of water and felt the ground beneath his feet grow damp, his socks becoming saturated with water and making unpleasant noises as he moved. It was uncomfortable, and he wanted to take the stupid things off, but was hesitant to take action due to the way The Monster was treating them. For whatever reason The Monster seemed obsessed with their feet to a degree that disturbed Sans, and the boy wasn’t sure how to feel about The Monster’s blatantly false statements concerning them.

Ahead of them, the cave became lighter. It was faint at first, the area they were now traversing more of a narrow tunnel than anything else, illuminated more by The Monster’s glow then the biolumiscent fungus clinging to the walls, the light cut off by the passage’s curves. As they grew nearer, however, it became evident that the cave opened greatly to an area where water dropped from the ceiling, producing a rather wonderful noise. Sans liked it, at least. He’d once had them spend time in a similar cavern where they had found shelter partially due to the sound, but more because most monsters rushed through the area trying not to get wet.

Sans eyed The Monster curiously. There weren’t any other directions he could find to travel, yet he already knew The Monster’s distaste for water. He didn’t seem nervous, or at least no more than Sans had noticed earlier. His questions were answered when a pail of umbrellas came into view and The Monster took one before offering him another. He let go of Sans’ hand, using it to steady Papyrus while his other arm held the cover far aloft, protecting both him and the young skeleton from the water.

It was only a short period of time before the water stopped, and another pail became visible in the distance. Once they were where it was dry, The Monster folded his umbrella and deposited it with the others before waiting for Sans to do the same. Until now, their journey had been free of other monsters, but Sans noticed a few now, moving through the faint, intermittent webbing of light. He looked up.

“It’s from the surface.” The Monster said, “Twilight town’s one of the only places where you can find surface light. A lot of monsters who live here have unusual sleeping patterns and need to be able to detect daylight and seasonality.”

Sans remained silent and looked forward. He didn’t like to think about the surface, but heard Papyrus make a little curious noise from his roost. He looked up at him, but was confused to see his brother’s eyes were actually closed and that he didn’t seem to be paying attention. They were drawing close to a group of buildings now, and he noticed The Monster was veering closer to one in particular. It was the largest, one of the few with lettering on it. He tried reading it, but The Monster kept moving forward and he couldn’t move and read at the same time. Then they were inside.

The interior of the store was strange to Sans, stranger even then The Monster’s home. He couldn’t make sense of the shelves upon shelves of items, but after a moment he noticed The Monster moving Papyrus and focused on that. He set the younger child next to Sans, and the older boy immediately latched on to his brother as The Monster took Papyrus’ hand and started leading them through the area.

\---

He marched out of his office with his shoulders squared, not bothering to look around for signs of life. If anyone was there, fine. If not, better. Gaster was busy. That's what he wanted to give off the look of. Business. But his fucking phone kept vibrating and though he tried to ignore it, halfway through the hallways his resolve crumbled at the ceaseless buzzing. _Again_.

Nothing. No response. When he pulled it away from his face the screen wasn’t even on. 

He tried to treat it like he had in his office, but as soon as the device was in his pocket it started ringing again, and after the sixth cycle of “calls” he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew that he wouldn’t have any missed calls listed in his directories. He knew that every time he glanced at the number calling him it was a different number. He knew that when he answered it he was answering nothing. 

He answered anyway and screamed into the receiver. Even he didn’t know exactly what he said, but by the end of it he was panting. That’s when he heard it from the other end of the phone.

“Sorr̨y,” Said a voice before hanging up, “Wrong͘ ҉n͟ųmber.”

Immediately, Gaster pulled the phone away from his face expecting to see the caller ID pop up. Instead, it was only displayed his home screen. Frantically, he navigated to his call logs. Two calls placed by the device that he recognized as his own, then nothing. No incoming calls. No history of calls for weeks besides the one he’d placed hours ago. For a moment, Gaster felt frozen, then something hot and pure seized him and he exploded, throwing the phone with all his might into an adjacent room before storming after it, grabbing the nearest object and sending it cascading into the wall.

A gasp. Gaster turned. A child was half bent over his phone, but it wasn’t what made the noise. As he watched another monster rushed to the child’s side, scooping the child up just it had grabbed his device.

“G-Gaster!” The man exclaimed, and it took the royal scientist a moment to realize who he was. 

“E҉̨́͞a̴͢r͝n̸̡̡̛e͏̶̸͞s̷̢̛҉͘t͡͡͡.̢͝” He acknowledged. The skin beneath Earnest’s eyes crinkled as he tried to process what Gaster said. Gaster tried once again to make himself clearer as he spoke, unwilling to waste his time repeating himself to this buffoon he once called a friend.

“Would ͞you ͏mi͡nd te͠l͡li͟ng ͞me̛ ̡wh̕at ̡a c̡h́i͜l̛d͟ ís ͢ḑo̴i̵ng͢ ̛i͢n͞ my͜ ĺa̶b̴o̴r͠a͜t͜o͜r̨y͝?́”

“O-oh. Oh-oh, um… see…” Earnest didn’t seem to be able to speak for a moment. More than a moment. He stammered and the noise brought a bitterness to Gaster’s thoughts.

“It’s, ah, it’s been hard since her mom… That would be me, er, my wife… S-since she, um… And my daughter, she, uh, likes to repair things, so I thought… and…” Earnest swallowed, “That is to say-”

“S̸h̵u̢t͏ up,” Gaster commanded, “F͝ran͜kly, I ̸d̀on͡'t͡ ca̕re. J̷us̀t͟ do̧n't͘ ͏l̛et ḿe̶ s̀ee̛ i̕t̢ h҉ap̨pe̡ņ agai̕n.͟ ̴T͝hi̵s͟ is͞ ͢no ͡p̀l̶ace f̷o͢r̕ a͝ ̀c̢ḩild҉.”

“Uh…” Earnest looked dumbfounded, “No, sir, it’s not… I-I’m sorry I-”

“What ͘d̨id̢ ͏I ͘j͞ust ͘s̶a̛y҉?”

“R-right.” Earnest turned his attention back to the child in his arms, “Um, Philly, love? How about you give… Give Doctor Gaster back his phone?”

Gaster admired how quickly and quietly the child offered it, and briefly wondered how Earnest managed to get it to do that without raising his voice. S had been that obedient, of course, but few parents trained their children in the same manner he did his subjects. Not that he particularly cared – there was a world of difference between his subjects and a real monster. Still, though. He started reaching out for it, then froze when he met the child’s eyes. The girl’s eyes. The way _she_ looked at him made his hesitate, and for a moment he was blinded with yellow. He withdrew his hand sharply, at though her glare had burned him.

“Sh͡e͜ ́c͘a͘n̨ k̢e҉ep it̵.” Gaster said abruptly, “You s͞a҉id ̀sh̕e ̡liked̢ f͘ix͏in҉g ̵thing̵s̴ ͘a͢n͘d ̵it's͜ ̧b̷ro҉k̷en͜. I'l͏l ca̛n̨ce͘l҉ ̀th҉e͡ p̨ląn ͏òn l̕aţer̡ ͘thi̡s week̸.͏”

“O-oh?” Earnest said, “Um, that’s… Why would - Or, um… W-what about your contacts o-or other important files?”

Gaster nearly laughed at the word contacts, but it had been years since he’d laughed. Instead he just turned and walked out, offering a bitter, “T̕h̸ere'͢s͏ ̕n̢ot͜h͜ing ͞th̴er̛e̴” over his shoulder. He wanted to get away from _her_ as quickly as possible.


	28. Stages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AH. STUFF. THINGS. ACTION. ADVENTURE. ILLNESS!!! BOOKS!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Doesn't update for two weeks*  
> *Posts a 30 page long chapter*  
> *Drops the microphone*
> 
> By the way, all comments should be responded to, and I'm not updating this Friday (tomorrow). This chapter is really long - About 3-4 times longer then our normal sized chapters of 2,000-4,000 words - so I feel this makes up for it.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, guys... And the huge chapter. I just had to have this series of segments be posted together for my sanity because plot development. Next chapter will probably be back to our normal update length.
> 
> Yes. I did spend time editing just to get that total word count.

“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” Capri exclaimed, “Ball of fire? An’ who are these fine fellows with you?”

Noticing how the two children shrunk away from her approach, the bird monster stopped just a little short of what she would normally deem appropriate. “Howdy, Grillby! Fancy meetin’ you out here. Picking up some supplies for the littleons’, I’d care to wager?”

“Morning Capri, and yes…” Capri didn’t much care for the look she was getting from someone she considered a good friend. He looked on edge, but she forced herself not to pick on him for it considering what she had heard about the kids. He was probably terrified of how they would react to her, she realized. “We’re out shopping for some clothing for these two… We wrestled with shoes for about an hour already, but you try fitting skeleton feet.”

Capri looked at the feet in question and smiled, offering, “You know I delight in a challenge, right Grillby?”

“What?” The elemental responded, caught off guard by her response, she was sure.  
“Do you think they’d let me give it a shot? I think I might have your solution if you don’t mind me takin’ a moment.”

“Really? Well…” Grillby looked over to the children. They’d clustered together, and seemed be regarding Capri carefully, but honestly seemed like any shy child might when faced with an adult they were unfamiliar with. Something rattled, and Capri noticed Grillby making nervous little hand motions that rattled the bucket of what seemed to be paint supplies he held in one hand. He never really changed, did he? Part of her just wanted to hand him a glass to polish just to sooth his soul. Finally, he spoke again.

“They really do need shoes. Downsides of Snowdin, I guess, so I’d love to hear your suggestion.”

“Yessir! You go on an’ get the closest fit an’ I’ll be there in a jiff.” Capri responded, turning away and hurrying to the baby section. Then, not wanting to break store policy, she shuffled over to the checkout and made sure to get a receipt. The store was nearly empty, she noticed, only the old, early rising monsters were around, joined by a few insomniac nocturnals and a handful of other crepusculars.

When she found Grillby again, the two children were settled on a bench next to each other with a couple boxes of shoes beside them each. She smiled, struggling to get her longer feathers through the isle around an abandoned cart, then held up her bag proudly and giving Grillby the receipt.

“I think all we need here is a _little sock_ collection!”

“We already tried socks, Capri.” Grillby said, “Afraid it didn’t really work out that well.”

“Okay, fine. But did you try _little_ socks?” Capri said, raising his eyebrows quizzically. Grillby brought his free hand to the back of his neck, and she relaxed her expression, giving him a smile. “Just trust me a moment, will you? I mean, how long did we work together? You ought to know I’m good at makeshift solutions.”

Giving Grillby one last smile, she continued forward and sank in front of the children, giving then a fair amount of room and trying to judge their reactions. One was looking at her with narrowed eyes while the other offered a small, uncertain smile, and she decided to go for the smiling one. Giving a little wave to both of then, she settled herself, moving her feathers about so they wouldn’t be in the way so much while assessing what exactly to say to the child. After all, everyone liked compliments, and it was a good way to get off on the right foot with people if you picked the right thing to comment on.

“Hello, there! My name’s Capri. May I ask yours?” She started, “Also, that it a wonderful blanket you have there.”

“MY BROTHER GOT IT FOR ME…” The child blurted nervously, immediately pulling the fabric up to his mouth like he had done something wrong.

“Well, that was very nice of him.” Capri whistled, “Ah guess you must be Mr. Papyrus, aren’t you? I was told you had a special blanket.”

The boy nodded, re-wrapping the blanket over himself. Capri herself was a little warm at the moment, but figured it was a comfort thing. After all, she doubted the boys had ever seen a bird monster like herself before. They were quite rare, primarily due to the effects of living underground on winged creatures, and Capri herself struggled to navigate many of the narrower tunnels. Especially at the moment, her primaries and secondaries long and overgrown, the delicate pattern normally trimmed along the edge ragged to near non-existence. 

Neither she nor Aynabat had much free time, lately, and the fox monster had been the one to help Capri with her feathers ever since they lived together long ago. It was a cathartic ritual for Capri, and she hoped it was for Ayna as well, though she’d always felt a little guilty taking so much of the other woman’s time. Still, there was something pleasant in sitting together for a while, absently watching some B-rated movie and making small talk.

“Do you mind if I touch your feet?” Capri asked, trying to focus on the task at hand, “I think I can get the silly ol’ shoes to work.”

Papyrus nodded again, and Capri set to pulling out several pairs of baby and toddler socks from her bag. She realized with momentary embarrassment that she’d managed to snag at least one girl’s pack, but looking up the child didn’t seem offended. Thank the ruins! Some little boys could be awfully particular – she knew from experience. Not that she was one to bend knee to such whims, but she hardly was going to fight with this particular child over it. The child squirmed a bit when she pulled the first and second pairs on, a little strangled laughter escaping through his nose, and Capri fought to restrain herself from tickling him on purpose. After a moment of work, she finished trying a tight little bow in top of the shoe and took a step away.

“Try that out, won’t you?” She said, and Papyrus stood, wobbling slightly before taking a few steps forward. 

It seemed to work out perfectly, until he stumbled, and she moved forward to catch him. After a moment he had righted himself, taking hold of a few of her feathers. She grimaced slightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable to have weight pulling down on the delicate nerve endings that generations ago was used for flight, but she knew she’d live. She turned to lead the boy back to the bench, and let out a startled chirp. Sans had snuck up behind them while Papyrus tried out the shoes, and Capri hadn’t expected the child to be quite so close behind her. He held out a hand and led his brother back to the bench, and Capri got the oddest sense that he was glaring at her as she turned to Grillby.

“See, Grillby?” She said, proud of her success, “ _Little socks_ … _Little sock_ collection. Get it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Grillby said, “I think Ambrose is rubbing off on you.”

Capri gave a twittering laugh in response, unoffended. Everyone she knew loved Milo, even if they pretended to hate him. There was something about the combination of the otter’s sincere, kind nature with his easy laugh and plethora of jokes that made him likable, despite how invasive and obstinate he could be.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” She grinned, then, more seriously. “You know, he actually took me under his wing quite a bit when I started workin’ for him.”

Grillby groaned and Capri smiled again, but it was smaller this time, regretful, “I didn’t even mean to make that one. But you know how I was… I still talk a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not acting the way I used to.”

“You’re, um…” Grillby sounded uncomfortable, “Acting like you used to be the scum of the earth or something.”

“No, nothin’ so grandiose.”

“Still, I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“Ah, hush now, Grillby.” Capri said, “You never said nothin’, I’ll give you that, but I know I had you runnin’ pretty hot a couple of times.”

“I never really liked gossip…” He admitted quietly. 

Capri had never meant to gossip. She just liked talking, or rather, liked being heard. It was novel, and it didn’t seem to hurt anyone if she embellished the occasional story a little now and then to make it more interesting. Capri was so used to being the ear to everyone else’s mouth in her life that starting rumors came as a relief to her, because the way they spread assured her that someone else was doing the listening for a change. 

She was a hard worker. A good student. A good friend. She did everything she could do to be a good person, but this resulted, unavoidably, in bad. When she tried to complain about her problems – because really, everyone has problems – she found herself in a situation repeatedly where other people would compare her problems to theirs and theirs would always be greater. She was stressed about having three tests on the same day? Why? It wasn’t like she was about to fail her classes, even if she did score poorly. She was worried about rent money? Why? It wasn’t like she didn’t have a job.

Eventually Capri stopped complaining all together, and shortly afterwards the “gossip” started. At first she justified that it wasn’t as though she were telling secret truths, just creating public lies, and for a long time that was just fine. Most of the time it was funny, honestly, and the majority of her tales were dealt with by the people in them within hours. Her reputation wasn’t even ruined because it was already so good, overall, and people assumed that she had just been honestly mistaken. However, this all changed when she started waitressing Grillby’s in the evenings. Her tall tales spread further, faster, and like a children’s game of telephone had more ability to mutate into something far more malicious then would ever escape the bird monster’s beak. The worse part was that her stories still didn’t effect most people – just another whatever to shrug off – the only times she actually hurt anyone was when her made of stories had an unintentional grain of truth to them.

She wondered what she had gotten right about Grillby, or if the elemental had simply overheard something that he knew would lead to heartache.

While Capri was still considering this, the elemental changed the subject, “Thank you for your help with the socks. I wouldn’t have thought of that. You wouldn’t mind helping me guess their other sizes, would you? I’m thinking extra small.”

“That’s probably about right,” She said, turning her attention to the skeletons and surveying their proportions. “I wouldn’t mind shopping with you a while. I’m actually looking for a gift for my nephew, so we’re probably going to be around the same areas. He keeps saying he wants a music shirt, but no one really knows what that is so I figured I’d just come here an’ look for one.”

“How old is he?” Grillby asked, and Capri was relieved to hear more normalcy in his voice.

“Five, tomorrow night.”

“That’s a great age.”

“He’s a great kid, most of the time.”

\---

Sans didn’t know what to do about the bird monster. She was talkative, even more talkative then The Monster normally was. Grillby. The Monster was called Grillby. Sans frowned as he looked over his brother, helping him settle on the bench where Grillby had indicated they should sit. Were they allowed to call him that? The Monster called them Sans and Papyrus.

It was odd to hear someone other than his brother call him that, he decided. Consistently, at least. Some of The Others would call them by those labels, that’s where they came from in the first place, but never in front of The Doctor. They were too afraid. Even Sans and Papyrus were careful not to call each other that when he might hear, though they tried not to speak at all. Not unless spoken to. Not unless asked a question, one that they were supposed to answer. The Doctor hated th-

“Sans?”

Sans flinched at his own title, looking up to find Grillby regarding at him with the usual odd expression. He blinked, realizing that his magic was stirring in his bones, the light glow from his eye mostly drown out in the bright florescent lighting, yellower then that of the laboratory. Was that why The Monster sounded strained? Sans looked away and back to his brother. Papyrus seemed preoccupied with his shoes, kicking them gently against the side of the bench and staring at his own feet. Sans wanted to tell him to stop, but didn’t, because Grillby didn’t. Wouldn’t. Maybe.

“What’s up, Grillby?” The Bird was speaking to The Monster.

“Oh, nothing Capri. I was just checking to make sure the kids were alright.”

“Are they okay?”

Sans felt The Monster crouch down beside him and glanced over to meet the spectacled gaze for a fraction of a second. Then looked up and past him, to the bird monster. She was oddest looking monster he’d ever seen – something about the way her beak worked, maybe. Her eyes were huge and dark, lined with a bright ring of pale cream. Sans looked away and shivered.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m just being a bit foolish.” Grillby said, “Should we get moving?”

“Sure.” The bird sang, “Where to first?”

Sans listened to their conversation, not understanding some of it, but hoping to learn something from it anyway. The Monster had come and helped him up, before taking Papyrus’ hand and leading them through the shelves of items. Sans liked how easy Grillby’s body language was to follow, now that he was used to it. When The Monster wasn’t paying attention to him it was easy know what he wanted, like right now, as he was talking to The Bird, Sans knew he was supposed to follow.

“…You don’t approve?”

“Ah never said that.”

“I’d find it funny if you did, since you brought an entire bag of them over last week. Thank you again, by the way, for the supplies.”

“Not a problem! For goodness sake, Grillby, it’s the least me an’...”

Sans didn’t have to even pay attention to where they were going, really, just follow the familiar voices in front of him. For a while he could tell Grillby kept checking him, but after a few minutes it became infrequent, leaving Sans to look around him while he walked. There were lots of monsters here, but they were mostly far away and distracted by items on the shelves. The items themselves were of little interest to Sans, though he tried occasionally to try to read the labels. Nothing he recognized until they passed a rack filled with small, colorful packages.

“…Nah, don’t buy any. They’re supposed to be the new “thing”, but no one actually likes them.”

“Really?”

“Can’t give them away, they’re so disgustin’. Ah girlfriend of mine bought some, an’ I swear...”

He and Papyrus had found these a lot when they were in Waterfall. Food, always half eaten, but blessedly there. Often plentiful, too, with two or three of the soft, mealy bars found in the same trashcan so that he and Papyrus could each have their own. The texture was chunky and inconsistent, the flavor an odd saccharin-bitter mix that reminded him of what The Doctor normally gave them to eat. It was moister, though, and had little bits of sweet, colorful something in it, sometimes pink, sometimes orange or blue.

Sans stopped and looked to see what the monsters were doing. They were still talking. Sans swallowed, and looked wildly about before grabbing a quick handful of the bars and stuffing them into his pocket. Then he ran to catch up with the others, the tapping of his feet evidently catching the attention of Grillby and The Bird.

“Hello, Sans.” The Bird said. Her voice reminded Sans of a box The Doctor had presented him with, once. It had made noise when he opened it. “What were you lookin’ at?”

Sans tried to look up at her, but the first glimpse of those dark eyes seeming to stare at him and he dropped his gaze. He walked faster, angling away from her to walk alongside his brother. He grabbed Papyrus’ wrist, and Papyrus looked at him, startled. Sans let go, and Papyrus offered his hand in exchange. Holding it, Sans felt a little better.

\---

Holding on to Sans made Papyrus feel much better. He couldn’t quite describe how he felt, but it reminded him of glass. Brittle. He closed his eyes and let Grillby lead him, squeezing his brother’s hand a little tighter. He could almost feel Sans’ magic, if he focused, slow and soothing even when it was pulsating quicker than normal as it was now. Grillby stopped to talk with Capri.

“Do you mind if we look down ‘ere a moment?” Capri asked.

“Not at all,” The Monster replied, “I actually had planned on it later.”

The isle was the most colorful yet, lined with toys. Papyrus blinked and stalled, looking at Sans whose expression was slight, but a foreign compilation of distrustful and curious. They stumbled forward together slowly at Grillby’s prompting, and Papyrus felt nauseated with temptation. He let his eyes wander the items enviously, before looking at the floor.

“Boys?” He heard The Monster say, then, “Its fine if you each want to pick something.”

Papyrus looked again to Sans, who looked back at him, wide eyed, then shook his head. Capri had gone further into the isle, obviously surveying something or other. Papyrus tried to ignore her. Behind and above them, Grillby sighed, and a minute later both children flinched at the sound of something hard hitting the bottom of the bucket he was holding. They turned to find The Monster standing near a column of plastic bins suspended to the wall, looking through each one and tossing the occasional item into it. He noticed they were watching and put the bucket down, and Papyrus felt his brother draw back. 

He didn’t show any indication of moving, though, struggling to dislodge a couple somethings that had wedged together from one of the bins before holding them up in such a way that the boys could see. Plastic animals like the one’s in the bath, Papyrus realized.

“What do you think?” Grillby asked, casually, “Horse, or wolf?”

He gave each figure a shake on separate words, as if trying to bring attention to them.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Papyrus asked, feeling better about talking now that they were being asked questions by The Monster. It was like the difference between speaking for The Doctor and one of The Others in the laboratory, he realized. The bird monster had spoken to them, but Sans had stiffened when he responded, signaling his uncertainty about if they were supposed to talk to her.

“Which one do you like better? The horse,” he wiggled one hand, then switching to the other, “or the wolf?”

“OH…” Papyrus considered for a moment. “THE HORSE.”

Abruptly, Grillby tossed the horse into the bucket, and put the wolf back into the bin before pulling two items from the next one. “Okay. Sans, you need to choose this time… Orange, or green?”

Sans shrugged.

“You must think one’s a little nicer then the other.”

Sans shook his head, and Papyrus felt him lean a little closer to him. After a moment, his brother said, “the orange one…”

A quite thud as orange fell into the bucket, followed by a second as The Monster murmured, “Those are all the same” before pulling out another two items.

“Okay, looks like we have green or purple here.”

“Green.” The boys said, responding in unison. Grillby smiled as he put green into the bucket. Finally, he came to the last little bin.

“Blue sea turtle or orange octopus?”

“octopus.”

“SEA TURTLE.”

Both children stilled awkwardly, their eyes quickly darting to The Monster’s face. Grillby barely reacted, gently placing the sea turtle into the bucket. He stared at the octopus for a moment, running a finger along one of the unfamiliar appendages before putting it back in the bin. Papyrus felt an unexpected upset in his chest at the action, before he noticed Grillby lingering, digging through the unknown before extracting what seemed to be the exact same toy and putting it in the bucket. He stepped away, seemingly satisfied, and cocked in eyebrow at the children staring at him.

“Yes?”

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

“The paint job was shoddy on the first one, so I swapped it for one I liked more.”

“Goodness, Grillby, you look like you should’da gotten a cart.” The bird monster commented behind them.

“Nah, we’re just getting clothing after this.”

“And you don’t think you’ll need more room for them?”

“I’ll just put the hangers around my wrist or the bucket handle.”

“Humph.” Capri scoffed, “Suit yourself. Did you have any luck picking toys with your kidlets?”

“Oh, um…” Papyrus wondered why The Monster sounded so flustered, “Sort of, not really? I just got some of the cheap bin items they seemed to like. They, uh, aren’t the best at expressing themselves sometimes, like I say...”

\---

Gaster walked through Waterfall with a red umbrella. He only noticed the color because it was so vivid, almost that same special shade he’d grown to obsess over. The color filled him with a yearning he didn’t want to acknowledge as he moved onward through the caverns, stepping carefully over the wet floor in such a manner as to keep himself as dry as possible. He was bitter in his march through the rain, having gone home to change swiftly before making his appointments, and now finding himself without the time to grab a meal. 

He’d swallowed a couple analgesics at home, too, pocketing the bottle for later. It rattled with ever step he took now, the sound reminding him vaguely of his phone. He wasn’t upset that it was broken, but rather fumed at the events leading up to its carnage. As he neared the end of the cavern and entered another he placed the umbrella into the stand.

 _“Sorry,”_ the voice on the other end had said, _“Wrong number.”_

Gaster had trouble believing that. You don’t call the same number dozens of times over an hour-long time span if you’re not getting who you expect. And that voice. Oh, that voice. He couldn’t place it, exactly, but he _knew_ he recognized it as surely as… He was about to think the back of his hand. That was funny, right? No…

He recognized it as surely as he’d recognize his subjects’ souls. Should he even call them souls? After all, souls were something real monsters had, and after all he’d-

Gaster’s thoughts were interrupted as bile rouse in his throat. He swallowed, stopped walking, and swallowed again. Bringing a hand to his mouth he went through the motions of someone suffering intense nausea with numb indifference. As it passed, he took a moment once again to straighten himself, wanting to appear even colder and less approachable than the shell of a monster he already was. That little hiccup had been embarrassing, he knew that, even if he didn’t feel it, and he scorned himself for not even swallowing some milk with the pain meds. 

Did he have milk?  
Yes.  
Though now that he thought about it, it had probably spoiled. 

Asgore knew he’d looked at them for long enough to know every detail of those warped little specimens, every flaw… Or rather he didn’t. That was rather the point, wasn’t it? The secrecy, his own laboratory in the basement, the soundproofing. All because the king had given him an order and he persisted to follow it, determined to succeed even if it meant taking risks his coworkers would find unacceptable. Taking actions even he used to question.

But, in the end, he had success, didn’t he?  
Well, not yet.  
Later. 

Soon enough, for an inpatient man who’d already waited for decades. He guessed that was why he thought of them as souls so easily, even if his subjects weren’t monsters. It made sense. ASP. He’d chosen that for a reason, back when he was young and passionate.

Absently, Gaster noticed he was walking past the doctor’s office. Good to know, he supposed, though that was less important than his current business. All he needed was to find some in a secluded enough area, and then he could take the samples he required. They would hardly be missed. He’d already taken a significant amount of the local flora all of which had unexpected but fascinating qualities, sealed carefully in sample boxes contained in his worn black messenger bag.

\---

“SANS!” Papyrus called quietly, then hawked before continuing, “SANS! COME OVER HERE!”

The older boy glanced over, then stumbled half sideways towards his brother, his attention split between Grillby and his surroundings. Papyrus shifted impatiently. 

“what is it, pap?”

Papyrus simply grabbed Sans by the hand and pulled him to one of the clothing stands. He felt Sans balk as he pressed through the clothing to the clearing inside, but the other skeleton reluctantly pressed himself in as well. Soon they were both crouched and surrounded by fabrics. The sharp scent of artificial dyes and plastic overshadowed the gentle smell of linins, but regardless of this, Papyrus liked it. It was darker here, hidden, and for whatever reason Papyrus wanted to be hidden in that moment.

He sat down, pulling Sans with him. The older boy looked at him with concern, and Papyrus frowned in response. He wrapped his arms around Sans and pressed his skull against his brother’s shoulder. Sans gave him a one armed squeeze, but Papyrus felt something awkward in it. He didn’t really care, though, he just wanted to be here with his brother. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on Sans’ magic again. 

It was a good distraction, reassuring and familiar.

“pap…” Sans said, several seconds after the other boy had shut his eyes and leaned further into his brother, “i think we should go back out to the monster.”

Papyrus shook his head. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here and sit for a while.

“papyrus, come on.”

Sans stood up and tried to take Papyrus with him. The younger boy refused, whining in irritation. He fell limp, knowing his dead weight was more than Sans could handle in this form and that he wouldn’t dare to shift. Sans almost always gave in the few times when Papyrus obstinately disobeyed him. Rarely the older boy would pull rank and force his submission, when he thought they were in danger, but for the most part what Papyrus asked for, he got. Since they weren’t in danger now, it should be easy to get Sans to cave… 

And he was lazy, anyway. He’d probably be just as happy to rest a while.

He was shocked when Sans actually _left_ him. Sans _didn’t_ do that. Yet his form vanished through the curtain of clothing, leaving Papyrus alone. The young boy felt a moment of betrayal, more panic, before a distaste of being alone settled in. He scrambled to follow, after a moment, stumbling over himself and the metal rack he had hidden in. Just as he got back out beneath the industrial lights, dizziness overwhelmed him, and instead of allowing himself to fall he sank sluggishly to the floor.

\---

Grillby smirked to himself as the children vanished into the clothing rack. He could see the entire circle from here, and wasn’t concerned about them disappearing, though he did move to browse a closer selection regardless and gestured to Capri about it. The bird monster gave a giggle in response, and moved to the opposite side of the display in question. It was obvious she thought it cute, but even so he felt the need for a little caution. They were nervous children, and while it might be a case of simple curiosity and normal play, he worried that their hiding could be more a product on anxiety. Regardless, he wasn’t going to deny them their sanctuary.

He felt better after having run into Capri, the nightjar’s knowledge of the situation and their own past experience with each other allowing him to relax. It was nice to have someone around who wasn’t offended by Sans’ standoffish attitude, and understood to treat the boys with a little delicacy. Plus, her constant rambling forced Grillby outside of his own head. 

It stuck him as a little odd, of course, to be treating her like a fellow adult now, after hiring her for years as an awkward teenager and early twenty-year old, but the kind of odd he had grown used to. In the blink of an eye, he’d think it odd that she seemed older than he did, her children, should she have any, the age he automatically thought of when imagining her. It had happened before. He didn’t like thinking about it.

The elemental was surprised when Sans emerged from the hiding spot only a few minutes later. Even more surprising was that the child made a B-line for him. He stopped a couple paces away, shifting nervously, his expression dark and concerning to Grillby. He crouched down, noticing Papyrus exiting behind his brother, and then looked back to the older boy.

“What’s up?” He asked, and Sans just frowned at him and looked back towards Papyrus, who seemed to sway for a moment as they watched. He descended to the floor slowly, and Grilby felt his breath catch for a moment before he moved to the boy.

“Papyrus?” He asked, “Are you okay?”

The child gazed up at him with a perplexed expression and nodded, but Grillby could see the sheen of sweat over his skull. The elemental reached out and felt his forehead, then realized he had better options then his own definition of feverish. Picking the boy up, he searched for Capri briefly, before checking to make sure Sans was following as he headed over.

“Hey, Capri? I might have a little bit of a situation here.”

“What is it, Grillby?” Capri said, then with immediate realization, “Oh, dear. Poor little thing looks positively peaked… Maybe you should take ‘im home, Grillby.”

“I’m planning to, Capri. I was wondering of you could check him for a fever for me, though.”

“Oh, certainly!” Papyrus startled as she reached forwards just a little too quickly, and she quickly apologized with a little high-pitched whistle. “Oh no, now, love. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Easy, now, okay? I’m just going to touch your forehead real quick…”

“Sweet angel ‘ah the surface,” Capri stated in hushed tones as her hand brushed against the child’s bones, her mottled brown feathers ruffling slightly, “Grillby, this kid is burnin’ up.”

“I feared as much,” the elemental responded with a frown, “I wouldn’t guess you could arrange an appointment for me today or tomorrow?”

“I’m not entirely certain, but sure as surface I’ll try. Not that I really think its necessary, mind you. Burnin’ up’s just something we all say now an’ again. Probably just the sniffles, poor dear.” Capri said, “But you go ahead home, okay? Doctor’s assistant’s orders! Oh, an’ give him some broth and or other fluids… Stat?”

“Yes ma’am,” Grillby said, prompting a giggle from the woman in response. 

“Goodness! I guess I’m a ma’am now. How classy.”

He paused for half a moment in thought, then gave a simple, “Thank you, Capri.”

“Not a problem, Sir Grillby! Now, off you go.”

\---

“May ah ask your name, kindly?”

“Dờćt͜ó̢̀r͠ ̡̡̢W̡in҉g̷͟ D҉i̵͠n҉͟gs̷̶͝ Ǵ̡̕as̷t͟͞͠er͜͡.̴͢” Gaster replied, restraining his irritation on not having been recognized. It had been a very long time since he did anything for public perception.

“Sorry?”

“W.͞ D̶.́ G҉a̛śter̕.͠” He repeated, over pronouncing his words for the idiot woman before him. 

Why didn’t she just read his name off the form he’d just filled out? It was right there on the first line.

“Ah, here you are, the twelve o’clock appointment… Little late, aren’cha?”

“Y҉es.” 

Could she not refrain from stating the obvious?

“No problem, though you’ll be with Doctor Bede instead of Ambrose, is that alright?”

“S͟ple͘ndi̢d͡.͜”

He had a distaste for the otter anyway.  
He was frivolous and nosy.  
The last thing Gaster needed right now was nosy.

“In that case, she should be ready for you momentarily. Please follow me to exam room four.”

As he followed the bird monster through the narrow hallway, Gaster couldn’t help but judge her state of disrepair.  
Those feathers were so overgrown he nearly tripped on them.  
What kind of medical office is this?

“Here we are. Won’t be long, thank you for your patience.”

Gaster didn’t offer any platitudes in response, instead walking immediately to the examination table. He looked at it blankly for a moment, and blinked. It was padded. They were always padded in medical offices like this, why hadn’t he expected that? Shaking himself, he sat down, the sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. Now he was alone in a room.

He relaxed from a tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the small shift in his mannerisms almost unnoticeable. He looked around judgmentally, wondering why he was here, at such a small practice. Mr. Bede was probably as foolish and backwards as his coworker was. Why had he selected it? He knew the answer, of course, security, but still… All they would do here is run the same tests he already had, come to the same conclusions… 

Hope, he realized, that was why he was here.

The door clicked open and a tawny female fox monster pushed her way in, flashing him a gentle smile and settling herself in an office chair. She sat cross-legged and lab coat-clade, very professional, and remained silent while reviewing his file. He was impressed. For the first few seconds.

“Doctor Gaster, it’s a pleasure to have you in my office,” She started, “Though I must complain that this is your first check up in nearly nine years. Has the royal scientist really been so busy that he can’t take care of himself? I mean, if you dust, what would happen to the rest of us? We can’t have that.”

Gaster was quiet for a moment, the flattery dulling his annoyance. 

After a moment, he said, “T͠hat͠ ͝is why͞ I̧'̡m̸ ͡h̢ere,̸Mi̸ss ̷Bed͠e̡.̵”

“So this says…” She said, and it irritated him that she was completely unruffled by the insult, “You do realize I need to do my own investigation, correct?”

Gaster scoffed, but nodded, submitting himself and the next several minutes of his time to her exam. He didn’t even process the movements, gestures, and tests, he just preformed them. It was easy. After all, he’d instructed the subjects to do the same countless times. Finally, it was over. The fox was frowning. Gaster knew why.

"̀D̶i̢d͝ ̷your ͘i̴n̨ve̸st́ig҉atio͢n ͝yi͏eĺḑ ̀ańy ͞new dat̴a,̡ ̵Mi̴s̡s̢ B͘ȩde?͝"͏

“No.” She admitted solemnly, “How did you let yourself get like this?”

"̡T̡hè Roýa̕l S͡c̷ien̛t͡ist h͜as͡ ̀bee̵n҉ s͢o b̢u͝sy, Mi̴s̡s̢ B͘ȩde.”

She swallowed, looking once again over the MASTR. Gaster could see it plainly, the fox monster not trying to conceal it even slightly. Only one color. Purple.

“What are you working on?”

"I'm̛ ̷n͘ot a͝t ̸li̷b͝e͢r͟ty ͏to ̵dis̨cu̸sś it.́"

“I doubt its worth this.”

"̷I͞'͠ve ̸al͟w͢a̛ys̶ ͟g͢iv̸eń my͏ li͘f͞e ̀to m̡y̡ w͠ork̷. ͠H̢a̡ven͜'t͘ you͜?̴ ͜I͡'̴m ̧no̷t͡ s̀ur̴e h̛ow̕ ̧els̵e̡ a͢ y҉o̧u͡ng͝ ͝ţhińǵ lik̨è you͏ wo͟uld͟ ̛be ̴só e̸st͏abl͝is͝h́e҉d. I'l̢l͡ a͟dm̸i̕t҉ i͘t̷'s͜..͞. N̸o̢ta̢b͝le.͞"

“Not literally.”

"W̛ha̸t͡ d̷ò I̛ do a̛b̶òut͡ ̷i̶t?͝"̕

“Doctor Gast… Wing Dings, I don’t think-”

"G͜a͞s̸͘t̴e̛̕r͢͠,̸ ̸̵if͝ ̛y̕o͟u̷̴ ͢͡m̧̀u̸͏̧st.̛͘"̶̶

“Gaster, I don’t think you fully grasp the severity of your situation. You claim to be experiencing dermal breakdown along you forelimbs, particularly your hands, which my examination confirmed, as well as detecting you self-reported soul deficiencies. This, paired with the soul damage that has occurred leads me to believe that nothing can be done to improve your condition.”

She blinked, seemingly in shock of herself before continuing, “I’m sorry. You seem like the sort of man who wouldn’t appreciate me sugar-coating it, but I am very, very sorry… Maybe if you had come in before your HP started draining-”

"̡͠M͡ý ̸H̴P̢̕͜ i̴̢͠s҉̢ du͞é t̸̢̨o̷̵ ̴͜a̛͢͜n͢ è͢n̶͜͠t̛i̸̸̛rȩ͘l͞͡͝y̴͜ d̴͝i͢f̶̀f͠e̴r͘͜e͡͞ǹ̢t̷̕ ̴̛s͢i̛͡҉t́u͢a͠t̵̡́i̢̛͠o̕҉n,͘ ͏͟M̛͟i̵s͡s̡̀ ̛B̕҉̀e̴̡d̵́è̶͝.̕"҉͞

For surface sake, would she ever stop blubbering on? Even if what she said was the case, there wasn’t any need for such theatrics.

“What… What situation it that?”

"U͠n͘fo̶rtuna͠te̢ly̢ I͘ ra͜n ̷i͢n̶t̸ò ̨some ͢M̧o͞l͠ds͟ḿall҉ dúrin̶g̸ my̶ ͝t̵ra̷nsit h̸e͠re.͞"

“Oh… And before that your HP was stable?”

“P̶erf̷ec̶tl͡y.”

“They have been particularly aggressive lately,” The Fox offered needlessly, “In that case we have a few options, though none of them are a quick fix.”

"̵In̕ ́ţh͝a̡t͢ ca̴se,̧ t̨h͞ȩre͟'s͏ ̀r͜ęall͘y ́no ͏p̶oi̡nt ҉in thi̕s̢."͜ Gaster said, standing.

“Excuse me?”

"̕If͟ y͝o҉u͟ ̡çąn̵'̵t̡ ͘c̨ur͢é ͝m͞e͜, ̷t͏hȩn̶ th͘ȩre's̨ ̧n͘ò p͏o͢ińt͞ ̸in̴ ͏m͠y͡ bei̸ng here̷.͝"͡

“Doctor Gaster,” She yelped, her sudden harsh inflection causing him to flinch due to how sharply in cut into his pre-existing headache, “Perhaps you still do not have the full picture. You are dying right now. If we don’t start treating you immediately, you could fall within the week. Furthermore, I’ve had two more cases similar to yours, and it is entirely possible that as time progresses we will have more of these-”

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=qxjdk1)

“What?”

"̕For͞ǵiv͝e͝ m̀e҉. ̨You ̨sai͜d yo͡u h͜ad҉ ̨o͘th̢er c̀as̷es̡ l̷ike ͞m̛ine̢?"̛

Abruptly, Gaster had began to exercise the remaining threads of his abilities in self-control. He spoke slowly and carefully, keeping his tones as friendly as he was able to remember to.

“Uh… Yes, that is correct. Several of them, though only three anywhere near as severe.”

"I ͡s͟e͢e. ͝H͝o͞w̡ ̨unfo̶rt̵un͘a͟te͠.̀ ͝And̴ y͏ou ́are ͏worr҉ie҉d̀ th̛át ̵i͜t̶ ͟could͝ ̨b͟e̷ ҉s͜om̛et̡hi͞n͠g eńvir̶on̛men҉t͢al or an illne̶s҉s͜ t҉h͝a͘t͘'s ̕c̴au͠si̷n̸g͠ ̕t͝his?"

“Well, Ambrose and I discussed the possibility… We’ve noticed that soul deficiencies like this tend to strike whole families or groups of people in a shared geographical location.”

"P͜er҉h҉a̢ps͘ I ca͏ń ͜h̢e̢l̛p. Ca̵n ͘y̶o̢u͡ t́éll͘ ͏m̸ę ̡an̸y̛more a̶b̨out̕ ͟t͢h̷e̡ ŕèc̵ent ca͏s̨es͝?͝ P̵articúl̢a̶rly t̢h̕e se͘v͠ere͢ ͘o͠nes. I͘ m͟ight̴ ̡b͠e ̶ab̢l̷e ̛t̨o fi̢g͏ure͡ ͡ou̵t͟ ͡a ͟co̵m͢mo͜n thread̛. ͝T̢h̷a͢t͜'͢s̕ h͢a̸lf my j̡o͠b,͡ ̡a̢f͜te̢r͢ ͝a͟l͘l̵..̛.̡"̡

“I’m afraid that would go again patient confidentiality,” The fox said, and now that he was paying attention Gaster caught a hint of discomfort in her professional tone. “Thank you for the offer.”

"No̷ probl͟em... Somet̨h̢in͡g҉ l̷ik̡e͜ t̶hiś,̢ if͞ ̀it̀ is̵ ća̴us̕e̢d bỳ ̡an̸y̴th̴i̷n̸g̵ ̢o̕th͜er t͏h̶eń t͘h͘e ͟ge̷n҉er҉a͠l͟ s͝ţa͞t́e of̧ ́th҉e ̡u͞ndèrg͜r͜oun̸d,̛ ͞cǫuld̴ ̶b͠e of̸ i̵nt̡er͜e͏s̶t t̨o͝ my͢ ͝re̸seaŕc̸h̨,̸ ͝you ͡k͞now."͏ ̀Gaster said, making sure to justify his interest before carefully adding in a tone he thought sounded like concern, “I̢ ͠ju̸st̕ ͝h҉op̕e̴ ̵n̴o̡ chi͘ldr͏e̢n͡ ́h̷av̛e ͢be͞e̢n a̡ff҉l̕ict̛ed.̢"̸

“There have been, unfortunately, but all three seem to be recovering.”

"̷Áh. ͏It'҉s͠ ̷g͟ood to̸ hea͘r̴ ̶the͞ir̸ l͞ittle sou͞l͜s w͠ill ̢bę ͢c̴ompl̸e͏t͝e҉ a͡g̶ai͡n͡.̧" 

Gaster’s soul hitched. That sounded forced, didn’t it? If his subjects had somehow survived… No, only S. He’d found Subject ASP-6-P’s hand plates buried in dust, after all, the fine powder strewn messily across a patch of moist ground. It mixed with the mud, became mud, in what he was certain must’ve been S’ attempt to stick the other subject back together. He was being stupid. The fact that she said two at first should mean nothing to him. There was only one unaccounted for, and his dust had likely already blown from one end of the underground to the next. The hand plates would’ve already started rusting, he guessed, if they weren’t buried beneath a layer of dirt. For that matter, who’s to say he didn’t fall in Hotland…

“Cores, actually. My apologies - “Soul deficiency” is a bit of a dated term. Anyway, all three of them are-”

"El͞e̕m͘e̴nta̕ls.̡"̨ Gaster said, successfully suppressing any inflection in his tone, ͢"͟It ͠makes s͏ense.̴ ̴H͝is͟tori͘cal͞l͡y͠ t͏he̡y̶'̕v͝e̸ àl̶w̵ays̸ b̨ee̡n ̀l͜e͝ss ̧st͞r͠uct҉u͜r̵all̛y͏ so̧u̷nd ͠t̸hen͏ ͟real͘ mons͏t҉e͟r̢s.̴"

“You shouldn’t say that.”

"́It's̡ ͟true, ̛t̕h͞oug̷h̸. ͢In ͜fact th̕e ̷bas̡i͝s ҉o̧f the͟ ͜M̛A̵S̀TR͝ ͘te͏c̵hn͏o͢lògy a̷nd ͜ab̸iĺįty̕ ҉t̢o͞ p̛ro͢vi͜de ma̴gi͜c t̕ransfusio̸n̕s ̛cam̵e͜ ąbo͘u̧t̨ ent̸i̸rel̡ý ̕d̢ue to҉ t́he ̸él̛em̷en̛t̕ąl's͡ use̡f̧uĺn̕es̶ś in ̢t̕i͠mes of͟-"

“I meant the slur.”

"̧M҉i͝s͢ś ̕B҉ed̨ȩ,"̵ Gaster said, a shadow of a smile twisting his features as he realized he had no reason to be polite any longer, "͡T̶hat is ̕tru̡e͢ too.̸"͘

\---

“It really is just a cold,” Doctor Ambrose declared in private, away from the children. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the same bug that developed into pneumonia for Sans. Luckily, Papyrus has you to take care of him, so I really wouldn’t worry about it. Now that you can make sure he’s eating and drinking enough, I imagine he’ll be feeling better in no time.”

“I figured as much,” Grillby replied. “Thank you for coming anyway.”

“Not a problem, old boy,” he said, kindly, “By the way, what’s for lunch?”

Grillby gave an amused hiss, “Not sure yet. I already heated some broth for Papyrus… Maybe soup and a sandwich?”

“Sounds lovely. In the meantime, I think I’ll give the boys another checkup and round of healing.”

“Can you spare the magic this early in the day?”

“Oh, certainly. I’m not giving them a full work-up, after all, just hitting the problem areas again… By the way, I noticed Sans’ knee. Has he been-?”

“Yes.” Grillby frowned, “I don’t really know what to do about it.”

Milo sighed and brought his stubby fingers together in front of him, fidgeting for a moment. Then, he reached down into his pocket and pulled out a jumble of… Something. Waddling over to the counter, the doctor put the object onto the counter before proceeding to snap it apart and sort the pieces by color. They looked worn, he thought, then realized that by now they should, the colorful paint rubbed off in several places revealing the metallic silver beneath. Bede had given them to him the year she joined him at the practice.

“I’m not sure how much this will help,” he said, beginning to snap the two piles back together into separate chains, “But next time you notice it and you think it’s appropriate to bring up, try giving him this…”

The otter turned and offered the green construct to Grillby. 

“What is it?” The elemental asked, looking at the object curiously.

“They’re called Tangles. Ayna gave me a couple for Gryftmas a while ago, after she realized my propensity to fidget.” Ambrose said, smiling, “That’s actually what they are, a type of ‘fidget toy’ used in therapy for stress reduction. If it does help him you might investigate looking into other fidget toys if this seems to help him, but honestly I’m not sure how much it really will. I mean, it should reduce any picking at himself caused by general stress, but the reality is that we need still to address the underlying issue here.”

“I understand,” Grillby said, then, “Are you sure you don’t mind giving this to him? I mean, I can probably pick one up next week…”

“Don’t worry about,” The otter said, manipulating the purple Tangle absentmindedly. “Like I say, she gave me two, and I’m keeping my perseverance.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Ayna got them for me in the colors of my soul type. She’s a clever lass.”

“Indeed.” There was a pause, and Milo started to move to the living room until Grillby interrupted him, “Hey, Ambrose?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you could give it to him?”

“I guess,” Milo said, “Why?”

“A few reasons.” Grillby responded, “One, I think he could use it while you’re around. He’s better this time, compared to last, but still on edge even more so then usual. Second, I think you might do a better job explaining it to him, and he might take it a bit more to heart seeing as you use them yourself, even if it is for a different reason.”

\---

Sans sat at Papyrus’ feet, looking over the younger boy protectively. He was worried about him, but less so now that they’d made it home and The Monster was making Papyrus stay on the couch. The little skeleton was not happy about it, however, complaining to Sans that he didn’t feel that bad whenever The Monster wasn’t within earshot. 

Sans knew something was wrong with his brother, though, in the same way something hadn’t been right with him outside. It hadn’t started out bad, but he still remembered the weakness he’d experienced from it, laying helpless in the snow, unable to haul himself back into shelter even as The Monster advanced. He’d already come close to losing Papyrus too many times. Once was more than plenty, more than that was hell. So, when Papyrus complained, Sans simply redirected him, suggesting something new for the child to draw so that he would do as he was told and get better.

Sans hoped that really was The Monster’s plan. For Papyrus to get better. That’s what he kept saying, and Sans really wanted to believe him. Maybe he did, even, but it was always his suspicion that kept him sane in the laboratory, and he wasn’t going to abandon it completely.

“how about the green thing on the table?” he said now, as Papyrus again started to move beside him.

“I ALREADY DREW THAT!”

Sans blinked. He didn’t understand what Papyrus was so irritable over. Even with the weird otter in the other room, Sans had come to the conclusion that they were safe for the moment. If that was the case, then the couch was as close to paradise as he could imagine, except, perhaps, the room upstairs with the bed and the closet. Grillby had even brought blankets and pillows for them, as well as the crayons and paper. It was… Nice.

Still, he wanted to make Papyrus happy. Scanning the room, he couldn’t find anything he knew how to describe well enough for Papyrus to understand him that he hadn’t had the other child draw already. He thought about what Papyrus had drawn earlier, wondering if there was another memory he could have his brother recreate. Nothing pleasant came to mind. Then, Sans’ train of thought jumped and he had an idea.

“maybe…” he said, “maybe you could draw it in a different color, like how you made the dandelion out of a voice flower.”

Papyrus cast him an unhappy expression. 

“THAT **WAS** A DANDELION.”

“okay.”

“WHAT COLOR SHOULD I USE?”

Sans shrugged. 

“what color do you like?”

“LIGHT BLUE OR ORANGE.”

“okay. orange, then.”

Sans noticed The Otter coming and pulled his legs up close to him defensively. The Otter had been alright earlier, and Grillby said he was going to help Papyrus, but that didn’t mean Sans liked him. He knew he _did not_ like what The Otter could do to him. Still, he had to admit… He’d felt a lot better ever since the last time The Otter came. Since Grillby had been taking care of them, really.

“Hello again, Sans and Papyrus,” The Otter said. “I’m going to give Sans an exam like the one I gave you, Papyrus, and then after that I thought I’d heal both of you again. Alright?”

Sans went rigid. He wanted to dispute the notion, but couldn’t utter a word. If he complained, would The Otter still help Papyrus? Next to him, Papyrus nodded before he started drawing again. The Otter grunted as he sat beside Sans, setting his bag on the floor beside him.

“Sans? Can you look at me?”

Sans forced his head up. The Otter was frowning. Frowning wasn’t good. With a slow motion, he brought one hand up and reached out. Sans shut his eyes and waited, flinching when an oddly padded paw overlapped his own hand. Then the now-familiar creep of warmth seemed to coil over the joints of his hand, then drip through it, seeping into Sans’ knee and drowning the pain that dwelt there.

“How about you let go, son…”

Sans wasn’t sure he’d actually let go when The Otter pulled his limp hand away from the damaged knee. He opened his eyes, watching as The Otter placed his hand down before gently returning to the joint, it’s aching renewed as soon as The Otter pulled away.

“Why do you do that?”

Sans didn’t answer.

“It makes my job more difficult, you know. Not that I’m trying to guilt trip you, or anything…” The Otter’s nose twitched when he smiled, a feature that Sans would later find charming but now noted with complete neutrality. “Anyway, I have something for you. It’s like the medicine you’ve been taking, something to help you feel better, but different. Instead of swallowing it you need to do something. Okay?”

Sans nodded, uncertain.

“Alright. Here you are.” The Otter tried to hand him something, but Sans didn’t reach to take it. Instead, he peered at the offered first, holding something lightly. It gleamed green in the light. Eventually, The Otter took one of Sans’ hands delicately, palm up, and put the object in it. The Otters glanced up to look up at the boy, shining as they reflected the light.

“It’s called a Tangle,” The Otter said, “I have one of my own. See?”

He held a similar object up.

“Instead of… Doing this,” The Otter tapped on Sans’ knee lightly with his other paw, “I want you to try playing with it. I think it might help.”

Sans swallowed, and The Otter drew back, leaning into the sofa. He sat for a moment, shifting around the segments of the purple clutter he held. With The Otter seemingly occupied, Sans hesitantly brought the object closer to him to get a better look at it. Soon he was cautiously fascinated with the simple device, enjoying the way the lose joints rotated with the strange curvature of the pieces. He suddenly sensed someone leaning close to him and turned, finding Papyrus looking over his shoulder curiously. Sans didn’t stop playing with the Tangle even as he looked away from it, but after a few moments of looking at his brother held it out in offering. Almost instantly, one of The Otter’s paw’s stopped him, and took the toy away.

Sans’ eyes followed it, not upset or even disappointed, just vaguely envious. There were quiet pops, and suddenly the tangle was broken in two. Sans looked up at The Otter sharply, offended that he would destroy the object right before them, but then to his surprise he heard another pair of pops and was offered the Tangle again. He didn’t take it immediately, but as The Otter reached across him and gave Papyrus a nearly identical object, he felt his curiosity overtake his reluctance to take offerings. Then he found relief in understanding. 

It was smaller. He grabbed tightly to two segments and bent to confirm, and with a gentle pop, they separated. Sans felt his face relax, the act of finding the simple solution satisfying him as he re-hinged the break in the toy.

The Otter brushed against Sans’ back and he looked up, feeling the tautness of his bones resume as the magic that held him together tensed. The Otter motioned to his stethoscope, and Sans relented, leaning forward as he knew he had too. As the exam continued, he experimentally fidgeted a bit, at first to see if The Otter would stop him, and then to distract himself. Occasionally, The Otter said something, but Sans barely heard it, as wrapped as he was in trying to ignore The Otter anyway. Eventually, though, that became impossible as the exam finished and the healing began.

It was brief, this time, and for that Sans was grateful. He didn’t feel as empty in the end. In fact, though he would never admit it, Sans felt better than he had in ages afterward. More alert, unlike the first time when the procedure had left in a muddle of insecurity. There was great focus paid to his hands, the time spent on them really the only moment he struggled with his emotions. No matter how softly his one hand was treated, the lose bolt still sent thrills of pain across his being, and he was unable to revert to his normal problem solving behavior. As The Otter let him go, however, he realized the bone had been healed in a manner, an ugly knot of scar tissue resecuring the screw. Sans didn’t care. He had full mobility of his hand, as much at the plate would allow as least, and his hand didn’t hurt anymore.

As The Otter shuffled to move besides Papyrus, Sans watched him intently. Much of his animosity for the man had left him, but he still couldn’t be trusted. Still, as he chatted with Papyrus, Sans paid attention to what he was saying.

“Gee wiz, kiddo,” he said, running a healing hand over Papyrus’ ribcage, “It’s almost lunch time and you’re making me wish I had some _spare ribs_ for you.”

The child blinked and pulled back, “THAT SOUNDS LIKE A BAD IDEA.”

“ _Romaine_ calm, kid.” Ambrose said, looking at him cheerfully, “I keep forgetting you and your brother _donut_ understand puns… I hope Grillby finishes lunch soon, too, before I forget how to _expresso_ myself without mentioning food.”

“WHAT ARE PUNS?”

“Right.” The Otter paused awkwardly. “I’ll just you and Sans a joke book next time I visit. But it’s word play. Here, let me have a crayon for a moment… Thanks. Can you read?”

“YES. SANS TAUGHT ME HOW.”

“Really? That’s amazing. He must be very smart.”

“HE IS! I USED TO THINK HE KNEW EVERYTHING, BUT THEN HE TOLD ME HE DIDN’T, AND I BELIEVE HIM BECAUSE HE GETS SCARED EVEN WHEN NICE MONSTERS TALK TO US, AND SOMETIMES I KNOW THINGS HE DOESN’T.”

“I see.” Sans saw something flicker across The Otter’s expression, “Are there a lot of mean monsters?”

“NO…” Papyrus looked distressed quite suddenly, “NOT A LOT.

Sans felt his soul quicken, and for a moment he considered getting between Papyrus and The Otter. Before he could act, though, The Otter frowned and looked down at his paper again. With a final motion, he held it up.

“What does this say?”

“PUNS.”

“These are _tearible_ jokes,” The otter said, pulling the paper in two.

Papyrus looked at him blankly.

“Okay, let’s try that again…” The Otter scribbled on the backside of his torn paper, asking, “What did I do to the paper?”

“RIP IT?”

“No. Well, yes, but I tore it… Here. What does this say?”

“JOKES.”

“Okay. Now I say, ‘these are _tearible_ jokes’, get it?”

“YES.” Papyrus said, straightfaced.

“Are you sure?”

“WELL, YOU SAID THE JOKES WERE BAD… RIGHT?”

The noise the otter made was almost pained, indicating Papyrus didn’t answer correctly. Sans found himself alongside his brother in trying to figure out what he wanted. It didn’t make any sense.

“Okay…” The otter said, “Let’s try another one. Simpler, this time. What do you call a bear with no teeth?”

“I DON’T KNOW.”

“A gummy bear.”

“OH!” Papyrus exclaimed, “I SEE!”

“Do you?”

“YES! DO YOU GET IT, SANS?”

Sans looked at The Otter with a frown, then shook his head quickly to his brother.

“ALL IT HAS IS GUMS, SO IT CAN’T EAT YOU.”

\---

Milo left shortly after lunch, and since then Papyrus just kept feeling worse. It first he hated that they had left the store early because of him because he wanted to see more of it, but by the time evening came he was glad to be home, curled next to Sans in a pile of blankets. Grillby was doting, checking him every few minutes, often with medicine or something to drink, a kind of care Papyrus was unused to from anyone except Sans. It almost made the complete misery of being sick worth it.

The bath that night was particularly welcome, and Papyrus sank into it gratefully. Unfortunately, after he got out the shivering started, intense chills raking his body even after The Monster carried them up to bed. When he tried to put Papyrus down, the boy clung on to him for a moment, desperate for his warmth.

“Come on, Papyrus. You’ll feel better in the morning if you get a good night’s rest.”

Papyrus shook his head. He didn’t want to. Even with Sans waiting for him, the bed seemed cold and unwelcoming compared to a literal walking blaze. He felt his brother’s hand on him, the touch light and worried, and felt a moment of guilt even as he tightened his grip on The Monster. 

He was scared. He’d never been this sick before without a clear cause – like one of the times The Doctor made him sleep. He was afraid that if he did go to bed he might not wake up.

“Papyrus, you’ve got to let go of me.”

Papyrus whimpered unintentionally, and suddenly felt both Sans’ arms wrap around him and pull. Both he and Grillby gasped as he was yanked off, The Monster stumbling and having to catch himself against the bed. Startled and cold and panicking, Papyrus bawled, the combination of this and his cold making it nearly impossible to speak close to instantly so all he could do is take quick, hyperventilated breathes and still feel like he was choking. This just fostered the vague idea that he might die in his mind, adding to his distress. His brother tried to comfort him and Papyrus threw himself on top of him, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

“What’s wrong? Papyrus?” The heat was back, and without even letting go of Sans, Papyrus latched on to it.

“I-I-I… COLD… DON’T-T WA-WANNA…”

“Shhh,” Grillby soothed, “How about I read you a bedtime story? I have “The Adventures of Fluffy Bunny”, we could try one of those.”

Papyrus didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded like Grillby was staying. All he wanted was Grillby’s heat and presence, Sans’ embrace no longer seeming like the wall of protection it used to. He nodded.

“Okay, then let go of Sans, please. Just for a minute. I need to get the book.”

Papyrus let go for a moment and Grillby walked across the room. He could see Sans as the monster turned, looking betrayed and fearful. Papyrus shut his eyes and tried to breath. He felt Grillby reach for something, then turn again, and then suddenly they were on the bed again, Papyrus quickly covered in soft blankets. He felt Grillby’s voice rumble through him as he crowed the monster, ending up in his armpit wedged between his chest and his arm, and tried to pay attention to what he was saying. Papyrus was too upset, though, and soon gave up. Eventually, he felt his brother reach for him, a lone hand brushing against him seeking comfort. He loosened his grip on Grillby just enough to take it.

A squeeze and a pulse of magic were exchanged, and both children went still. Not asleep, but settled for the moment, letting The Monster’s reading pass over them. Papyrus closed his eyes.

He panted through his mouth for a while, then relaxed, Grillby’s heat and magic surrounding him with a sense of inherent reliability. He could feel and, when he opened his eyes, see his brother now, the older skeleton’s panic easing as time passed. Papyrus wondered if his eyes had glowed earlier, if it mattered. Sans’ hand was cool, but in a relieving way, like ice in summer. As Papyrus watched, he noticed Sans’ blinks becoming longer and longer as he lay an entire arm’s length away from Papyrus and The Monster. His outburst had exhausted him, and just after Sans ‘blinked’ for a very, very long time, Papyrus’ eyes slid shut.

\---

Grillby sighed. They were finally asleep. Closing the book, he simply laid there a moment, weary himself from the day’s events. He was so behind he was first now, for the reunion, but somehow struggled to care that much. The boys were more important.

As soon as he tried to shift, Papyrus cried unhappily in his sleep. Grillby realized that if he tried to leave, the boy would wake, and they might well end up back at square one. If he stayed here, however, the light would keep him up all night. So, gingerly, he navigated his way out of the bed with Papyrus in one arm, somehow managing not to wake either child, before returning to the bed.

Tucking Papyrus in beside him, Grillby looked at Sans for a moment. He’d noticed the blue shadow earlier, but hadn’t been able to investigate with Papyrus in the state he was in. Looking at the child, he frowned at the way he lay atop the comforter and tossed a throw haphazardly atop him. Then, he leaned into the mattress and tried to sleep.

\---

“Tra la l҉a̡!”

Gaster stopped suddenly. He’d barely left Shy Inn, a rather cheap hotel where he’d rented a room for the rest of the day. His room had been small and cozy, but he hadn’t paid attention to that or the way the squat, arthritic monster at the front desk told him how the Inn was named after her grandchild. All he did was sleep, pay, and leave. Now stood in a wide, empty expanse alone. Yet somehow the voice had cut over the sheets of rain hitting his umbrella as clear and crisp as if the speaker were right next to him, perhaps whispering directly into his ear. After a few second of silence, he heard it again, soft and unsettlingly familiar. 

“Tr̵̕a la la!”

He debated a moment, but as he heard it a third time he felt nearly as though his mind was made for him. Gaster turned to pursue the chant, going back directly the way he had come. He tossed the umbrella towards the bin as he passed it, barely holding back a sprint as he drew closer to the sound. Finally, he neared the river.

There he found a tall figure standing on a boat, far removed from the sparse collection of houses in the area, form dark and draped in purple, obscuring their features. All he could tell was that there seemed to be a constant motion right beneath it, never disturbing the fabric that defined them, but visible just barely through a thin seam above the wood. There was something ominous in their appearance, he thought, then frowned at himself before preparing to speak.

“What’ s̡ my name? It doesn’t really matter…” The figure said just before he opened his mouth, “I am the riverm͢a͘n͜. Or am I the riverwom͟an͝? That doesn't really matter, either.”

Gaster hesitated, slowly releasing the breath he was about to use to speak as he considered this information. Eccentric, he thought, probably insane but harmless enough the guard left them to their own devices. After some thought, he prepared another question, only to have the figure speak before him once again.

“I love to ride in my boat. Would you care to j̴oin ̕me҉?”

This time Gaster frowned in annoyance. He’d been about to ask what they were doing here, and they had answered. Stiffly, he responded, “I͠ ̧͟t̵͢h̷͞i̵̢n̶̡͏k̡ ̧n̴̨ơ͢t͏͞.͝” before turning away.

“Tra la la.  
Whe͝re͜ t̶o?  
If it's hot or cold, you can count on me.”

Gaster paused. He thought of the walk ahead of him, the cold and rain, and how bitterly tired he was. Then, he eyed the eccentric.

“Ą̶ŗę ̶͞҉y͞ou̢ s̶a͟͠yi̸̛n̷͏ǵ͡҉ ̨́y̡̛͞ò͡u̧͝ c͜a͞n ̧͜͞t̷͠a̧̕k̴e͏ ̵m̡̨e̕͠ ͡t̶̨o̷ ̧͡H̀o̡͏t̶͢͠l͠͏ą͏n̶̶d?”

The figure nodded in response, and against his better judgement Gaster stepped onto the boat. They were moving momentarily. 

“Tra la la. Why don't y̷ou sin͘g w͠i͡th me̢?”

Gaster was beginning to regret this decision. “I̡͝ ̀do̢͡͡n̢’̷̡̨t͢ ̸̨ş̡͝ì̸͘ng.”

“Tra la la.  
Of course y̵̷̛o͢u do!  
Everyone sings, particularly when they’re alone.”

“Ì ̸́r̵̕e͏̛a͜͜͞l͝ly͞ ͡d̵o͝n’̀̕͜t͢.”

“Hum hum hum.  
Hum hum hum.  
I'͡m̵ having a little concert.”

“G̨͝o̴̷͟ó̷̶d ̵f̸o̡͞r̀͟ ̢y̕͢͡ơu̧͢͝.̸͏”

There was a time of blessed silence, and Gaster realized he could see the shadow of the laboratory from here.

“The an͠gèl already came.  
I wonder when we'll have a̶no͘th͏er.  
What is angel wȩa̶th̡e̛r̷ like?”

Then, after they had stopped and Gaster hurried to get off the boat, a last comment.

“Tra la la. Remember not to w̧ee͡d̛ your gard̨eń and to always w̢atch͢ ̀y̸our step!”

Gaster turned to ask the eccentric what the hell he meant by that, but found the river person and their boat had vanished. He stood on the shore alone, his pants were mysteriously wet up to his ankles. Blinking in the cool night air, he turned and walked to the laboratory.

“Tra la l҉a̡!”

\---

Grillby was woken by a sudden pulse of frightened energy, more emotion then magic. Sans had scrambled beside him, clambering over the elemental’s forearm to reach his brother. He quieted with proximity to the other boy, but Grillby could still here panicked, gasping breaths before he settled himself, his figure half-shrouded in the flickering light of Grillby’s own luminosity. Kid must have had a nightmare, he realized, but was content to lay still in the moment as Sans had almost instantly fallen silent next to him. He thought the boy had fallen back asleep with the reassurance of his brother’s presence, but just as he had resolved to go back to sleep himself he felt a sob through the thin fabric from the bones above.

He opened his eyes to a pale blue light playing over what he knew should be shadows and moved, slightly, raising his head and one shoulder from the bed to gain a better sense of the situation. Again there was silence. The light flickered out at his motion, the soft sounds of blankets shifting as he sensed Sans burying his face into them, trying to hide in the darkness. Softly and carefully, Grillby spoke.

“Sans?” He said, “Are you alright?”

Sans didn’t respond, but Grillby sensed him rustle deeper into the blankets beside his brother, who Grillby realized was half conscious, returning the boy’s one armed grip with a tired acceptance. No longer afraid of disturbing Papyrus, Grillby moved further, shifting that he was on his side beside the boys. His greater mass caused the mattress to warp, sending Papyrus sliding gently towards him while Sans was still far enough away that gravity didn’t overtake him. As his grip in Papyrus became tenuous, Sans came to his hands and knees, looking about with a wild gleam in the cold glow of his eyes.

Grillby reached out unconsciously to steady the younger child, his attention still focused on Sans. He was scared, but he wasn’t acting out, wasn’t doing much at all. He’d tried to hide his fear from Grillby, but had been too upset to avoid it. Beside him, Papyrus gave an annoyed groan, rearranging himself before relaxing with a snort. He threw one hand towards his brother and wriggled his fingers. “SANS?”

The older boy froze, then slowly reached out to grab Papyrus’ hand. After a moment, he laid down again, face half obscured by the bedding as he sank into it, one eye still bright in the darkness. Grillby sighed, twiddling his free hand. What the hell was he doing with these kids?

“Kiddo… You have a bad dream?” He said, trepidation swirling in his core, “Talk to me. What’s wrong? What did you… What did you dream about?”

Sans shook his head. His movement was shallow and rapid, like he was afraid to refuse or afraid to speak. His eye was still glowing, and Grillby knew he wanted to be closer to Papyrus. He felt guilty that his presence disturbed the child that much, but though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone he also felt hurt and nervous. His past experiences with Sans’ subconscious hadn’t necessarily been positive. He debated for a moment. How could he provide comfort to the kid? Sleep still clung to the very periphery of his mind, and he struggled to pull himself to full alert.

“Papyrus, how are you feeling?” He asked, realizing he hadn’t really paid attention to the other child. The kid wasn’t really awake and just murmured something noncommittal, and Grillby gave his shoulder a quick squeeze to reassure one or both of them. Then the elemental’s gaze flicked up to Sans again, and he held out a hand. He could easily reach out and touch the kid, but didn’t.

“Come here,” he said, “It’s fine.”

He was a little surprised when Sans took his offered hand, his boney grip feather light. Grillby pulled the boy forward until he was flush with his brother, then looked down at both. Sans looked over Papyrus and seemed to calm a little, then looked up at Grillby.

“he fell,” Sans said, his breath catching for a moment so that he didn’t speak again for several beats, “we were still outside, and… he fell.”

“Ah,” Grillby replied, shifting one of the pillows so that he could recline into it without losing sight of the child. “Well, no one’s going to fall here. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Sans kicked his legs a little, as though agitated, cramming his face into the blankets again. The blue glow was concealed, the children’s forms falling into deeper shadow. Grillby could tell he was still upset. He put his hand on the child’s back awkwardly, patting the boy like someone might pet a dog they were unfamiliar with and didn’t know if might bite.

“Papyrus is going to be fine. Milo said so, and he knows what he’s talking about. Trust me. Besides, you’re not outside.” Grillby took a deep breath, “We’ve got plenty of food and medicine, alright? He’s probably going to feel all better tomorrow or the day after that. It’s just a cold, Sans. No big deal. I’m going to make sure you’re both-”

San’s head sprung up suddenly, “safe?”

“…Yeah.” Grillby said. He was about to say healthy at that particular instance, but safe worked. “I’m going to make sure you’re both safe.”

“why?”

“Because.”

“because why?”

“Because I said so.” Grillby was too tired to think of a better reason. He knew that even if he thought of one Sans wouldn’t listen to it. There was quite for a while, and to his surprise the boy’s eye glow faded in the darkness. He thought Sans had fallen asleep and got into a more restful position. As soon as he stopped moving, a flat voice floated to him in the dim of night.

“how long are we safe?”

“A long time,” Grillby replied, letting his eyes slide shut, then corrected himself, “A _very_ long time.”

“a week?”

“A week isn’t very long, kiddo.”

“two weeks?”

Grillby smiled bitterly in the dark. Well, at least the kid was believing him. “Longer.”

“A month?”

“Nah, way longer than that.”

“a… a year?”

Grillby pulled his head up to look at Sans, but the boy had turned away from him so that just the back of his skull was illuminated by the orange glow. Grillby wrinkled his forehead in thought, then reached forward to try to turn the child towards him. He was difficult to shift, even though he didn’t struggle, but eventually Grillby got an arm under him. By then it was easier just to scoop the boy up, which he normally wouldn’t do, but the hope he heard in the last line of words was heartbreaking and Grillby needed to know Sans believed him, or at least heard him, or… Something. He needed eye contact, some way to gauge the boy’s reaction.

Carefully, he extracted his other arm from around Papyrus without re-waking the other child and pulled Sans close to his chest in much the same way he’d held the other child earlier, when reading the book. He repositioned himself and the bedding gently, until there was a suitable space between him and Papyrus and deposited Sans into it. The older child’s breathing was still quick and uneven as he allowed Grillby to manipulate him, his eyes always following the elemental’s movements. Grillby pulled a blanket over him, then looked at the child’s face, waiting until he made eye contact.

“Sans,” He said firmly when the child finally met his eye, “You and Papyrus are going to be under my protection as long as you stay with me. And even after that, no one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe. You should always be safe.”

The skeleton’s expression barely changed. Grillby blinked and shook his head to himself, taking one last glance over the children. Papyrus was asleep, so he wasn’t needed here anymore, and Grillby craved his own bed. Sans would rest easier with him gone, anyway, and really both kids needed as much rest as they could get. He craned his neck to look around him, trying to find a way to remove himself without waking the children before going for it. To his surprise, a boney hand stopped him. He looked down to find Sans’ hand on his wrist. The moment he was seen, the child withdrew, his arm vanishing as he pulled tight against his chest beneath the blanket.

“Do you want something, Sans?”

The boy didn’t answer. Grillby was getting awfully tired of the silent treatment. He started to move again, only to have the grip return. This time he just looked at the child quizzically. Seconds passed. Then, finally, “can you… stay?”

Grillby blinked again, longer this time, disbelieving and convinced his tired mind was playing trick on him. 

“Sure.”

As the elemental tried to resettle himself on the mattress, he was shocked when Sans moved closer to him. It wasn’t cuddling, not quite, but the kid moved nearer until he just barely brushed against Grillby’s being. The elemental couldn’t help but go rigid in response to the awkward, untrusting movements of the child, uncomfortable with the situation. Eventually he felt Sans relax beside him, and looked over to find the child still wide awake. He had one arm around Papyrus and returned Grillby’s gaze meekly. The position Grillby was in was still uncomfortable, and hesitantly he extended his cramping arm around the children, letting it rest without actually touching them. He closed his eyes.

Grillby wasn’t certain if he actually slept or not, but a little while later he was brought back to alertness by a painful tingling and weight in one side of his chest. He stirred to find Sans clinging to him, the boy instantly started to pull away, but Grillby stopped him, gently placing a hand against his back. After a moment of no change, he pulled away, then sensing that was the wrong thing to do put his hand back against the child, now rubbing absentmindedly, praying to the ruins that he was doing the right thing. He noticed the odd texture of the bones beneath his fingertips through the fabric, the way the joints of Sans’ shoulders seemed to rotate with his action, and wondered if it was even comfortable to the skeleton, much less comforting.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and Sans shivered in response, the ghost of a sob.

“It’s okay,” he offered, the words seeming flat and stale in his mouth, “You’re going to be alright.”

More tears were leaking through his shirt, in new spots so the water easily evaporated before harming him. Seeming to realize he wasn’t being rejected, Sans wrapped his arms around Grillby again. The child’s ferocity in his distress was unexpected, and Grillby forced himself not to show his discomfort. Sans gripped the fabric of Grillby’s shirt uncomfortably, the tips if his digits regularly digging into the elemental’s skin as he readjusted it repeatedly, like he was afraid to loose hold. Grillby didn’t stop him. He just kept trying to sooth the child until his gaspy weeping calmed into deep breathes and his hands relaxed. Eventually, one arm slid off of Grillby’s chest and rested against the exhausted boy’s own cheekbone as he slept. 

Grillby considered him for a moment, now wide awake, then looked to the sleeping form of Papyrus. Was this progress? He thought it was, but still felt awful. Useless. Guilty. He had to keep his promises to these boys, he realized, not that he ever intended to break them… But suddenly the importance of it seemed to crystalize in his very core, a solid and immobile sliver of intent.


	29. Depression/Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun values rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets two titles because I couldn't decide between the two. I considered titling it "Depression & Acceptance", but that breaks my pattern of one word one chapter. So, when you read next chapter, just choose one of those two randomly for this one!  
>   
> This chapter's late because I accidentally deleted it.  
> Twice.  
> Rewriting all of this has ruined my brain... But I think it turned out alright, considering that this chapter and the next one are kinda hella important.  
> By the way, I think that as of Chapter 30 all of the *major* plot twists/points coming will be firmly alluded to. I mean, I might be forgetting one or two, but there are like six of them and I'm not sure I can even keep track of it all. You might want to pay attention to seemingly meaningless details, though, because I'll give a cookie to anyone who can figure out what I'm planning.  
> One note on that, though-  
> I haven't gone through and fixed references to "the core" vs. "The Core" vs "The CORE".  
> Thanks for reading!

No matter how it wriggled, the Moldsmal could not escape. It didn’t understand what was happening, only that the shadow above it was cruel and that it could not run away. For the past many hours, it had been trapped alone in the dark, sensing nothing but motion and stillness and the occasional panicked burst of magic from one of its kin. Then there was brightness, and with the brightness, pain.

Whatever was happening, the Molsmal did not like it. It tried in vain to produce bullets as it writhed freely against the cold surface of metal, missing in its actions until they failed repeatedly enough to stop. Then, in desperation, it made horrible sloshing noises, attempting as best it could to beg for mercy. 

The shadow didn’t listen. The shadow only took.

Moldsmal aren’t intelligent creatures, not enough for this one to understand what was happening to it. It only had the perception of bad versus good, and now “bad” flowed unadulterated throughout its being. If it had been smarter, perhaps it would’ve known its soul had been condensed and rent asunder, and now those pieces were being forcefully dragged out of its gelatinous body. 

The scalpel was used unnecessarily, along with forceps to extract the fragmented soul, and with every bit removed Moldsmal grew weaker. Eventually the quivering mass was nearly motionless, unable to summon enough energy to struggle against the relentless attacks any longer. As the last segment of Moldsmal’s soul was gripped between the hard metal, the little naive monster gave a singular last sad burble before collapsing into powder.

Above the small pile of dust, the shadow quaked and repeated something to itself.

\---

“Barely a monster…” Gaster said again and again, trying desperately to convince himself of it. It felt familiar, and he knew why. _That bad day_. The day in the kennels... The mantra had worked then, hadn’t it?

No.  
It hadn’t.  
“…barely a monster…”

The tall figure was leaning heavily on the lab bench now, his grip on the edge tight and desperate. He was clinging to it, trying to keep himself upright. Nausea had consumed him again, and he tried to blame it on anything except the actions he had just taken. When that didn’t work, he tried not to notice it. Ignored it.

God, he was shaking. Why was he shaking? Why was he upset? After all, it was…

“…barely a monster…”

He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t move. If he couldn’t move, he couldn’t get away, and then he’d be stuck here. He had to keep moving forward, that was the entire point of… This. To keep moving forward. Gaster tried to focus. If he couldn’t ignore it and he couldn’t blame his upset on something different, then maybe he could justify why the death of something that was-  
“-barely a monster-”  
-upset him.

Did the creature remind him of his other experiments? No, he decided quickly, too quickly, it did not. His other experiments weren’t monsters. They were never monsters. Not real ones. Right?

Right.  
He’d even told S…  
No, told Subject ASP-5-S.

“…barely… a real… monster…”

What little remained of Gaster’s soul was racing, and carefully he tried folding his knees beneath him. He turned and sank sideways against the countertop, relieved no longer to have to try to stand. He wrapped his long arms around himself, trying to comfort himself as he slowly lost control.

“…barely a monster…”

Hugging himself on the floor, Gaster felt empty more than anything else. He had felt empty for a very long time. His own embrace was cold, unloving, and didn’t comfort him at all. In fact, it disgusted him. Made him feel worse, his own fingers digging into his shoulders like long-legged creatures roaming across his back. Still, he didn’t let go. It was all he could feel other than that terrible, trembling uncertainty.

Above him, the scalpel glinted, abandoned on the edge of the countertop. It grabbed his attention, and slowly, slowly he let go of himself to reach up and grab it. He held it as casually as one might hold a butter knife, motions with it nimble and fluid despite the circumstances. The blade might as well have been an extension of himself, and with that in mind he tried to reform himself as an extension of the blade. 

Cold.  
Sharp.  
Precise.

“…barely a…”

Instead of finish the now familiar phrase, he gasped at the pain he inflicted on himself. Localized. Intense. He’d have to get a new scalpel, he thought through the wash of relief. This _one_ was ruined.

No matter, there were plenty of spares. 

When he tried to pull it free, the stem of the device separated from the blade with an unnerving pop, the motion causing another blessed shock to run through Gaster’s body. 

He should’ve known better then to stab in. You don’t stab with a scalpel.

He tossed the handle errantly towards the biohazard bin, then focused on his thigh, where the short blade was buried nearly a quarter inch into the hard surface. It was hard to get a grip on the thin metal, but he managed, moving it back and forth with slight motions. Finally, it dislodged, and Gaster took a long, deep breath. Better.

He felt better.  
Controlled.  
[Co]ntro[l]le[d].

Pushing himself up, he delicately dropped the blade into the bench waste and walked over to the sink to grab the nearby dustpan and hand brush. Sweeping up Moldsmal’s remains, the scientist found the reason he was looking for. The excuse that justified all of his little “Episode” right now.

It was his own mortality, he realized, that’s what was getting to him. Foolish, though…If he died, no _one_ else would complete his work. No _one_ else had the background, the knowledge, the perseverance to do it. And besides, he rationalized, he was a monster after all. It was natural for him to fear his own death, even if he had worked very hard to distance himself from his emotions.

The ones he had left, at least.

He _wasn’t_ guilty. He _wasn’t_ ashamed. He _wasn’t_ curious about what would’ve happen if… No, he didn’t wonder “if” at all. His life had _one_ purpose, and that was the advancement of monster knowledge for the eventual use in breaking the barrier. _One_ way or another the barrier would break.

When that happened…  
He would be…  
A savior…

Just like his mother before him.

He understood what other monsters would think of his work, his projects, his experiments. He knew they wouldn’t understand what he was doing. He knew what they would think of him. He also knew what he thought of himself. And he thought… Knew…

He knew that sacrifices needed to be made. 

Sacrifices like himself. And Moldsmal, he reflected, looking at the dust he had collected. Not that that was tragic, it didn’t even have enough brains to understand its own existence. 

Gaster was walking to the hazard waste again when a sudden bolt of pain cut through his hands. He flinched, scattering the fine power across himself and the floor. After a moment of confusion, Gaster simply dropped the dustpan to take a long look at his own hands. They were covered in Moldsmal’s dust, obviously, but otherwise unharmed. A cramp, then. 

Just a cramp.

He re-swept the filth up swiftly, dust mixing with the dirt his shoes brought in, turning the light-green residue an off brown color. It really was disgusting, he decided, and rushed the job just so he could clean himself. He waited for the water to go hot before putting his hands below it, rinsing quickly before dispensing some soap over his ceramic hands. Another rinse, and with an impatient sniff the scientist dispensed more soap into his hands. How much dust could’ve possibly collected? Was it gathered in his joints?

No matter how many timed he repeated, the water still came away dirty, until finally Gaster turned off the tap. He was trembling again. He noted the fact with a trace of morose satisfaction. Of course he was, _because this is what had upset him in the first place_. He was trying to wash himself off, wash the dust that was forming from him even as he dried his hands carefully with a soft white towel. The gray hand prints he left were almost comical, he thought, like something from a children’s show.

Dust was trickling down from somewhere else, he realized. The flow got thicker when he blinked. He turned and walked to the elevator. He kept a mirror near there, something to help him check himself before he went back to his real office. Gazing into it, he could watch it, the dust trickling lightly over his features. It almost tickled. 

The cracks were widening.  
And as he looked into the mirror, something in the back of Gaster’s head whispered:  
“Barely a monster.”

\---

Sans woke up slowly, luxuriously, not even opening his eyes as he became vaguely aware of his surroundings. He could feel one of Papyrus’ sharp elbows digging into his back, the spirited resonance of orange magic playing on his own meandering blue and pulling a hum of contentment from the boy. Sans took a deep breath and tried to wriggle deeper into the warm, soft fabrics surrounding him and his brother, satisfied with the notion of falling back asleep. He felt something solid resist him as he burrowed, but ignored it, finding an appropriately comfortable place to fit his face and nuzzling into it. Suddenly, the whole world seemed to jostle and Sans heard a snort of sorts. Adrenaline surged through the boy, yanking him conscious in an instant as he opened his eyes. 

Only red laced darkness greeted him, along with a hot sensation across his face. Sans blinked, thought’s racing, but his instant panic easing to confusion. What? The room wasn’t this dark, not the room they were in now, the room The Monster - Grillby - left them in. It wasn’t even quite darkness. Too red, more just blank, but the idea remained intact. The room was never this featureless. It had a window. Walls. So unless they had been moved…?

The sound of paper turning made it click for him. Sans remembered what had happened the night before, the access to those memories making his situation suddenly much clearer. It wasn’t Papyrus’ breathing that rocked him, slowly and evenly, nor only the other boy’s presence that pressed against Sans’ own. If he ignored the rays of orange kind-heartedness his brother radiated, searched for it, Sans could barely sense a thread of something very similar to himself nearby. Very, very similar, but different.

Foreign. Murkier. Older. Ancient. Vacant. Alone.

Sans pulled his soul away from the strange magic, afraid of it. It wasn’t malicious, and there was so little of it offered that it was easy to ignore… But the fact was that it had made its way close to him and he hadn’t even noticed made him feel exposed. Sick. He would avoid it.

Physically, Sans rolled onto his back, putting much of his weight on Papyrus and causing the other boy to moan in his sleep. Now he could see the smooth white fabric of Grillby’s shirt running up to a horizon, foreground to a background of the dark, polished wood he was familiar with. He searched for the monster’s face. Grillby was reading one-handed from the same book he had read them last night, and Sans wondered what he had to gain from it. The stories were like those The Doctor had said were meant for children, and he knew Grillby was not a child. The monster’s head rolled over to view him, and Sans realized he had one eye closed only after he opened it.

“Morning, Sans,” Grillby said, awkwardly placing the open book on his chest with his free arm. Sans looked for his other one, and found Papyrus wrapped around the forelimb, hugging it against his head and chest. Sans’ brow furrowed.

“Can you get me my glasses?”

Sans looked at the monster and found him gesturing a little over Sans’ head to where the spectacles lay, and reached out towards them hesitantly. Hmm. He stopped just before touching them, looking at the monster again. The monster had spent the night. His boney hand wrapped around the glasses slowly. The monster hadn’t hurt them. The metal was cool and sharp, even though it wasn’t meant to be, and he picked the frames up with unnecessary care. He looked up to find Grillby was smiling at him. 

Sans froze a moment, before he resumed his slow, uncertain movement. He didn’t give the glasses to the monster, instead bringing them closer to himself and watched the monster. Grillby was still smiling, but had closed his eyes with a sigh. He was waiting.

“glasses…” Sans said, finding he couldn’t really make himself speak.

“What about them?”

“…help you see.”

“Yep.”

Sans unfolded them delicately, turning them to look at the device from every angle. The room was dim, lit only by the window and the monster’s glow. In the flickering light, the materials of the spectacles seemed to gleam like eyes themselves.

“how do you find your glasses without glasses?”

Grillby laughed, and the motion reverberated through Sans’ ribcage. “I’m not _that_ blind, Sans. Just a bit nearsighted.”

“nearsighted?”

“I have trouble seeing things far away. Not too bad, though… Honestly, I could probably get away without wearing glasses.”

“why do you wear them, then?”

“I like how they look.”

Sans scoffed and squirmed uncomfortably. That was a stupid reason. He wasn’t going to tell Grillby that, though.

“why?”

“They bring out my eyes.” Grillby laughed again, and Sans felt his face relax. He didn’t know why the monster kept laughing, but it still made him feel… Comfortable. The Doctor never laughed. Papyrus did.

“that doesn’t make sense,” Sans said, after a little time had passed.

“I guess it wouldn’t to you,” Grillby said, his voice going softer, solemn. “Some people… Don’t like people like me, Sans. It’s difficult to explain... Can we talk about it later?”

“uh…” Sans struggled with the concept of talking later, eventually deciding that it was just easier to agree. “yes?”

“Thanks.” Grillby said, then, a little faster than Sans would expect, asked, “What are you doing with my glasses?”

The boy didn’t respond, just offered them instantly and silently. Grillby didn’t take them right away, and Sans was left just holding them out.

“Wanna try them on?”

“huh?”

“My glasses. Would you like to try them on?”

Sans did, but instead of admit it he said, “why would i want to do that?”

“It’s the kind of thing kids do, and you looked like you wanted to.”

Sans felt a little nervous swirl in his soul. He looked over to Grillby’s face, which looked foreign and hard to read without the landmark of his glasses. He wasn’t smiling, but… Sans felt his jaw joint start to ache again, expression trying to pull into uncertainly. He nodded.

“Go ahead, then.”

Sans waited a moment before bringing the lenses close and gave them one last long glance. He wanted to give the monster a change to change his mind. After a few moments, he put the spectacles over his eye sockets. Almost instantly they slid off, dragging against the smooth bone of his face in an unpleasant manner. Sans had to hurry to catch them before finally stilling the lenses over his eyes. He squinted. They made the world blurry, and he felt a little nauseated after looking through them. Beside him, Grillby was laughing again and he took the spectacles off to jab them at the monster.

“Thank you, Sans,” Grillby said, suppressing another chuckle, taking them from the boy and struggling to put them on with one hand in the odd, cramped space he occupied. His smile was genuine and soft and Sans turned away from it quickly to wrap his arms around his brother, an unfamiliar hot squeeze of filling his chest. The monster was laughing at him and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Behind him, he sensed the monster ease back into the cushions of the bed and open the book again.

“Would you like me to read more? We have to get up before too long, but I think Papyrus could use some extra rest.”

Sans grunted noncommittally. Honestly, he had been hoping to fall back to sleep himself, his head pressed against his brother’s back and the monster’s heat surrounding him. He heard the monster tab through the pages, searching for the beginning of one of the stories.

“Clever Paws the Clever Fox,” Grillby started, announcing the title of the story.

“As you may or may not know already, somewhere out there is a beautiful forest. And in that forest lives a family of rabbits. One of those rabbits, the fluffiest of all rabbits, is named Fluffy Bunny. But this is not a story about Fluffy Bunny, but one about Fluffy’s best friend, Clever Paws the fox, and how her quick thinking saved the day.” 

“Nearly every day Fluffy and Clever would play together in Fluffy’s garden. They would care for the plants and harvest whatever Fluffy’s mother needed for diner. Then they would dig in the dirt and build houses for toads and talk about whatever crossed their mind. Fluffy’s mother would make a huge vat of carrot soup for the entire family, and Clever Paws would eat with them, even though, as a fox, Clever wasn’t very fond of carrot soup. Finally, Clever Paws would walk home and take all of the carrot tops left from the soup to use as compost for the fox’s blackberries.”

“But then one day when Clever was walking home, she came across a…” Sans barely noticed Grillby’s recess, he was so close to the edge of sleep, but beneath him Papyrus stirred and reawakened him.

“A WHAT?”

“Oh. Good morning. How long have you been awake, Papyrus?”

“A LITTLE WHILE. SANS WOKE ME UP…”

“Ah. How do you feel?”

Papyrus hummed uncertainly. “MY HEAD’S… FUZZY.”

“Fuzzy how?” The monster leaned forward to touch Papyrus’ forehead.

“I DON’T KNOW. I FEEL TIRED BUT NOT TIRED?”

“Your fever’s broken. That’s good… You’ll probably feel fine by tomorrow. Nasty little bug, though. Does your throat hurt?”

“NO…?” A pause. Then, “CAN YOU KEEP READING?”

“Sure.” Grillby said, “Clever came across a human. It was a small one, but even so, she was instantly wary, because it is a well-known fact that humans are never up to any good. 

“Excuse me, little fox!” the human called, “Do you know where I might find a rabbit warren near here? I’ve heard that there’s one over that tall hill.”

“There is,” Clever Paws said, fur prickling nervously, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I thought a fox ought to know. I imagine you hunt there much the same as I intend to.” Said the human, smiling a very ugly smile.”

Papyrus gasped, rousing Sans once again. The older boy groaned in defeat, realizing with some revulsion that he would be unable to fall back asleep at this rate. He looked up just in time to catching Grillby looking at them briefly, a bemused smile crossing his features before he continued.

“Sorry, one moment…” Grillby said, “I lost my place… Here we are: “Oh no!” Clever Paws said quite unintentionally, and immediately realizing her mistake (for she was a very clever fox), added, “I _never_ hunt _there_!”

“Why ever not?” The human asked, seemingly skeptical.

“I can’t!” The fox exclaimed, as convincingly as she could, “I’m surprised no one has told you! No one can! The rabbits living there are huge and mean! In fact, when I tried, I ended up serving them just as I am now.”

“Really?” The human said.

“Truly!” The fox exclaimed, pouring her bag full of carrot tops from an entire day’s meals for Fluffy’s entire family onto the ground, “Being _so_ huge, the rabbits need someone to carry all their waste away, or else they would be buried in it! I need to make te – twent - No, _FIFTY_! – trips a day back and forth to carry it all!”

And since humans are very stupid, perhaps as stupid as foxes are sly, the human believed her. Their eyes widened and their mouth gaped, and after a moment it exclaimed, “Why, I simply must see such beasts!”

“No!” Clever said, “You mustn’t! Just look at what happened when they got one look at me prowling around...” 

Clever Paws turned to show off her mangled and scarred back leg, which, many years ago, had been torn mercilessly by a human trap. She’d been trapped for nearly a day before a little rabbit had found her – Fluffy Bunny – And through a little diplomacy, convinced her family to help release the predator (but that is a story for a different time).”

Papyrus jousted Sans once again, and let out a little cheerful noise at the idea of more stories. Sans knew what expression would be on Papyrus’ face now, and despite his ruined plans of rest, Sans felt himself smile, too. Stories only happened on good days. Really good days. The only thing he was familiar with from the lab, in fact, that he didn’t immediately associate with pain or fear or exhaustion.

Stories were used for days when The Doctor was testing something mental instead of physical. For days when Sans would go back to the room and have enough energy to relay them to Papyrus’s eager ears. There was only one book in the stimulus cycle, titled “New Home to Here”, and it was always a good week when that was the boy’s enrichment. Even though they didn’t need the book – both children could recite it word for word – there was something precious about the letters. They formed words that The Doctor would never use, at times, phrases he’d never say, and thus served as proof of a world Sans and Papyrus had never seen until their escape.

Grillby’s reading was different than any of that, though. His voice kept changing inflections, which, while subtle, had at first frightened Sans until he realized what Grillby was doing, altering his voice to match the context of the story. It was interesting, Sans thought, even if the story was very strange indeed. He didn’t quite know how to explain how the situation made him “feel”, and that made him nervous. It was happening to him a lot, lately, but as he was growing used to his new position in the house of the monster and it wasn’t as upsetting to him as it used to be.

“Obviously,” Grillby said as he continued reading the part of the fox, “I was done hunting as soon as I saw them. The size of them! The size of their teeth!” Clever Paws yelped, being sure to let all the fear she felt show, “And, being rabbits, their speed! I couldn’t get away, and so now I serve them! Then again…”

Clever’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled her best sly-fox smile before turning away from the human theatrically and – just loudly enough she thought the human might hear – whispered as though talking to herself, “Maybe if I brought the human to the rabbits, it could serve them, and then they might let me go. Surely it could carry more than I ever could!”

“Human!” She proclaimed, turning back, “I’ve changed my mind! I’m sure that you would-”

But Clever Paws needn’t continue, for she could see the human’s back as it ran away from her, and, more importantly, away from Fluffy Bunny’s warren. So, Clever Paws gathered up her carrot tops and went home. The next day she picked a bunch of blackberries and ate them with Fluffy Bunny and telling her story. And so Clever Paws the fox and Fluffy Bunny had a wonderful time laughing at the human’s expense. The end.”

Grillby took a deep breath as he closed the book, something halfway between a sigh and a yawn. He looked at the boys expectantly, and after a moment, asked:

“So, what did you think?”

“THAT WAS-” Papyrus seemed at a loss for words, though he was obviously delighted, “-LOTS OF GOOD!”

“Lots of good?” Grillby said, cracking a smile. Beneath his amusement was a kernel of worry, realizing once again by how the children spoke that they had… Interesting deficits in their vocabulary.

“YES!” Papyrus nearly shoved Sans off of him now, sitting up in the bed excitedly. With him upright, Grillby could see more evidence of the child’s sickness, as overnight a thin line of gunk had accumulated around the child’s eye sockets and nose in much the same way his brother had first appeared when they got to his house, though at the time Grillby had been far more concerned about their scars and signs of mistreatment to care about such standard ails. Now, he noted it to himself to ensure the child was properly cleaned after breakfast.

As the elemental considered this, Papyrus stuttered forward ever so slightly, a wide grin still plastered on his face and his arms spread slightly beside him. Almost as soon as he had moved an inch, however, he froze, and his bright smile shifted down almost imperceptibly. Grillby was confused at first, and then Papyrus practically dove on top on Sans, hugging his brother tightly. Sans grunted and squirmed in response, and finding a more comfortable position wrapped his arms lightly around Papyrus. The older boy’s eyes went, for a moment, to Grillby with a concerned expression, which softened after a moment as he closed his eyes and really embraced his sibling in return.

“THANK YOU!” Came Papyrus’ muffled voice, “FOR READING TO US!”

“No problem, kiddo.” Grillby replied, trying hard not to frown, “Maybe after we get more books you guys could read to me a little, too. You can pick any book you’d like from the Librarby.”

“REALLY?” Papyrus sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

“Sure.”

“WHAT’S THE LIBRARBY?”

“Oh, uh…” Grillby laughed, “The Library. They messed up the sign a few years ago, and at first the town didn’t have enough funding to change it. By the time the money was raised, it became a bit of a town joke.”

“OH!” Papyrus said, “WHAT’S A LIBRARY?”

“A place where you can borrow books.” 

“I SEE!” Papyrus said, nodding, and something about the over-the-top way he said it had Grillby smiling again. He reached out and brushed a hand against Sans’ shoulder to get his attention, forgetting momentarily of the children’s wide boundaries. He remembered halfway through the action, pulling away premature to the natural flow of the action. To relief, the child didn’t recoil, didn’t even flinch, just blinked and turned his scrutiny to Grillby.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Grillby asked.

“sleeping,” came the simple reply, “and humans.”

Grillby felt his expression sour again, but tried to retain his composure, “What about humans?”

Sans blinked a few times, then shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it, and was relieved when the monster seemed more then content to leave the subject as it was.

“What did you think of the story?” Grillby asked after the gesture.

“it was-” Sans puckered his brow, “-nice?”

Grillby scoffed mockingly, careful to keep his inflections light, and said, “I see. Huh. And what did you really think?”

“what did i really…?” Sans shifted his grip on Papyrus a little, the younger child having rolled off of him so that they were now laying side by side. “i don’t… know…”

“Just tell me what you thought of the story, Sans.”

“i… thought it was nice.” He repeated, dumbly. Grillby stared at him, and the elemental’s bright eyes, merely brighter sparks in the flames’ expression, seemed to narrow slightly. Sans felt guilty and he didn’t know why, so he tried to force out something that would make the situation better.

“why would a fox save rabbits?”

“Because she was friends with the rabbits.”

“only because the rabbits saved her…” Sans said, “she shouldn’t have risked talking to a human for so long.”

“So you think she should’ve just let the human hunt them?”

Something in the monster’s tone made Sans feel even more uncomfortable. He knew that if he said yes, then the monster would be unhappy, even though that was really what he thought. He looked off to his side, at the bedsheets, and let his fingertips start to dig into his leg bone.

“It’s okay if you do, Sans,” Grillby said, as if knowing what the boy was thinking, “There could be other options here, too, though. What would you think if Clever told the human a long, difficult route to take to Fluffy Bunny’s warren and took a shortcut there herself to warn the rabbits? Then she wouldn’t be talking to the human for as long and she would be protecting her friends.”

“she shouldn’t have talked to the human in the first place.” Sans said, his normally soft voice dropping even quieter so he was little more than a whisper. He wanted away from the topic. “what’s a shortcut?”

“A faster then normal way to get from one place to another,” Grillby said, “Often in a way that you really shouldn’t take or that is considered abnormal.”

Sans blinked. Shortcut. He took a liking to the word, and tried to express this to Papyrus with a quick nudge. He didn’t know if the younger boy noticed, because within that moment he asked the monster another question, and Papyrus and Grillby’s voices filled the room with gentle noise. The tension was gone, and with that came relief.

\---

Round and round and round… Gaster’s thumb whittled a trail of dust behind it as he circled it across his palm. It never stopped. It was never _going_ to stop. He was falling. The realization hit him. He was in his lab, just standing around and dying. He’d never considered that an option. It wasn’t an option. He had work to do.

And yet… Gaster had stopped. His thumb hadn’t. The dust hadn’t. But he had.

He was back to his workbench, now, standing above the preserved fragments of Moldsmal’s soul. One of them had already shattered and dissipated, leaving its container empty and the suspension fluid cloudy. Gaster had work to do. He swallowed, and his thumbs stopped their mad motion as he tightened his fists around them.

With a sudden fit of rage, Gaster threw his arms over the workbench. Papers scattered on the ground and containers fell and shattered to the floor as he swept across the blacktop, destroying his own careful organization. Gaster screamed, a mad, broken sound that echoed through the basement laboratory and all its emptiness. The feebleness of his own cry silenced him, making the magic in his chest go hot and tight as a reminder of the inevitable as he continued his purposeless abuse. There was another series of clatters and crashes as he shoved more items off the bench, a cacophony as he grabbed the edge of a nearby trolley and hurled it upwards. At first the metal trolley balanced precariously on _two_ wheels, the items on it sliding over the silver surface until finally it’s own weight pulled the trolley over and it fell.

The destruction wasn’t satisfying, but it felt like it should be, so Gaster continued. Another Moldsmal dusted as he pitched its canister across the room and it exploded against the wall. Another bottle followed it, this one filled with purified water which drenched the surrounding area and wetted the dry sustaince. There were liquids everywhere now, splattered across the floor in all different colors. Gaster stepped in yellow, shoes smearing greens he slid in orange. The edges of his lab coat were stained and splattered blue, colors that bleach and fade. He raised a vial of purple threateningly, the glass gleaming as it reflected the light from his eyes. He was about to smash it down at the few remaining items on the lab bench when he stopped, arm still raised.

The hand that gripped the ampoule still trickling dust down onto the royal scientist as Gaster stared. He was out of breath, panting as, slowly, gently, his arm descended, the small amount of magic needed to hold its load aloft failing him. The vial tapped against the bench, and he dropped it. His attention shifted, and the scientist stood crookedly, watching the perseverance extract role lazily across the black benchtop, still illuminated purple from above.

Exhaustion seemed to entomb him for a moment, and Gaster grabbed the countertop to steady himself. He let himself stop breathing for a moment, just because he could, and looked blankly downwards. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? To fall. Probably the easiest thing he’d done in years. Decades. Maybe, just… The easiest thing he’d done. His body ached, protesting for oxygen, and Gaster considered ignoring it. The still was easy, too, and one begot another.

His gaze wandered, and he found himself staring once again to the fragments of Moldsmal’s soul. Another one was failing, he could tell by the way it established a characteristic color, which developed across it slow and bruise-like, similar to the way damaged waxworm larvae turn black before dying when exposed to an infectious agent. Gaster heaved a great sigh, and breathed. 

In.  
And out.  
Barely.

Eventually the royal scientist moved to pick up the tray of soul fragments. He moved with purpose and caution, being careful, so very careful, to watch his step. He breathed. He moved. And a thin, near-silent gurgle of mirth escaped him. 

He had work to do.  
Work that only he could do because…  
He had perseverance.

As Gaster ambled warily across the room, the vial stuttered on the edge of the workbench. Then, it fell and fractured, a small pool of of its contents joining the rest of the mess on the floor. Gaster didn’t notice. He was busy with his work.

\---

“SANS?”

“yeah, pap?”

“WHAT… IS THIS?”

“a shirt.”

“ON THE SHIRT, SANS.”

“oh, um…” Sans blinked. He had no idea.

“i have no idea.”

“YOU CAN WEAR IT, THEN!” Papyrus said, tossing it to the other boy and Sans pulled it on without so much as glancing at the fabric. 

Meanwhile, Papyrus continued to agonize on the floor, a cluttered circle of shirts and pants around him. Grillby had told them to pick out something they like, but Papyrus liked all of it, soft and colorful, so instead he aimed for the best. It was more difficult then he imagined.

When Grillby returned to their room, he let out a soft, startled sound before kneeling beside the child and helping him choose something, telling his repeatedly that he’d have a chance to wear this or that later on whenever Papyrus was stuck indecisively. The boys wore the same sizes of shirt (Grillby had bought some a size or two large, for growth, but didn’t object to them wearing those now) but much different pants, so this left him with far too many choices to process after an entire life of cruel simplicity.

“WHAT’S THIS?”

“Well, it says “I got your back!” and it’s two stick figures, see? This are their heads and their arms, and this one is holding the other’s “back”, if you will.”

“OH!”

At some point during this process, Sans noticed the blue hoodie discarded near the edge of the pile and picked it up. It smelled different then he remembered, less warm and musty and more… Sharp. A scent that wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but didn’t fit his state of mind. Too “refreshing”.

“Hey,” Grillby said, and the boy turned, “How about you try this one? It should fit better.”

The elemental offered something similar to what Sans held, but smaller and freshly purchased. It didn’t smell great, either, but he put it on anyway, grinning at the enjoyable thickness of the fabric around him. Slightly too large, Sans’ fingertips barely showed at the ends of the sleeves, and he flexed them experimentally, grinning as he pulled the end of the fabric into his fist and closed the opening, leaving himself with two warm stubs instead of hands.

When The Monster grabbed his wrist, Sans’ mind went blank for a moment. Then “I know it”, “What did I do wrong”, and “What now” raced through his narrow track of though, competing for second place behind a champion named fear. He didn’t try to move even after The Monster released him, letting his arms fall limply to his side, knowing he would be gotten too eventually.

“There,” The Monster said, seeming satisfied, “What do you- _Sans_?”

Sans winced. That sharp tone… He was expected to look up.

“Are you okay?” 

Sans saw a crinkled brow ridge and a tight lipped frown and looked away. Down, to his wrists. His sleeves were rolled up. The Monster had… Rolled up his sleeves. Sans took a deep breath, unaware he had even been holding it, and clicked his teeth together nervously.

“SANS!” Papyrus said, interrupting both Sans’ and The Monster’s thoughts, “LOOK AT MY SHIRT! GRILLBY SAID IT WAS COOL BUT I THINK ITS WARM!”

Sans looked at his brother. He was smiling broadly, arms stretched above his head to fully display a large, yellow dinosaur knitted into a bright green sweater. There was a pink circle floating above it, and a line leading down to the dinosaur’s hand, as well as pink lettering Sans couldn’t make sense of.

\---

Papyrus’ smile was strained as he watched his brother and Grillby look at him. Grillby’s face looked like Sans’ often did, right before he got weird and clingy in the bad way. He wasn’t worried about the big monster though, he was worried about the pure _bad_ he’d sensed a moment earlier, and the way Sans was standing, like he was about to be taken to the black and silver room. As he stood awkwardly in front of their silence, he belatedly started wiggling his fingers as well, adding some comforting motion to his display.

“Heheh,” Grillby’s laugh was scoff-like, forced, “Not ‘cool’ like temperature, Papyrus. Cool like… Um…”

Grillby went expressionless, for a moment, and Papyrus let his arms drop. Sans was looking at the monster as he spoke, then down to his wrists again. He brought his arms together slowly to touch the coiled fabric, then glanced at Grillby before turning back to Papyrus. Papyrus kept smiling.

“It looks very nice on you, Papyrus. Good choice. Sorry, me and Sans were-”

“YOU SCARED SANS,” Papyrus said, letting his smile vanish.

“U-um-” Grillby looked positively taken aback. Sans, meanwhile, shot his brother a pleading look and shook his head. A flash of yellow escaped him that they all noticed but didn’t acknowledge.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Grillby said, and Papyrus squinted at his tone. He took a step towards the elemental, looking up into his eyes. The elemental blinked a couple times, his shoulder’s going tight beneath the white fabric as he leaned back, slightly, as though intimidated by the child.

Papyrus sneezed. Twice. And then, after rubbing his face furiously, trying to relieve it of any “gunk”. He sniffed and smiled at Grillby.

“WHAT ARE WE HAVING FOR BREAKFAST TODAY?”

\---

Grillby tried to pretend to read his book as the boys finished eating, but knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. The boys had noticed, or at least he thought that they’d noticed, and now he pretended not to have noticed that they’d noticed. It was… Complicated.

When they were done, Sans picked the dishes up and took them to the sink without a word, dragging the chair he had been sitting in behind him.

He needed to try to talk to them about their past. He’d known this since it became clear he’d be caring for them, but at first he’d just needed them to recover. Now, Grillby was procrastinating about it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask them about it, worried that he’d get irritated and then… Something like this morning would happen again. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he thought it had something to do with his touch again and felt mortified. He _knew_ better, but between last night and the glasses, the story, he’d managed to lull himself into a sense of false ease.

And now…

Grillby looked at Papyrus contemplatively. The child was drawing again, and taking it very seriously, by the looks of it, his jaw tense in concentration. Half the time, like now, the child seemed downright oblivious, and then suddenly he was calling the shots. Grillby was grateful, in a way, because as soon as Papyrus declared it time to eat, he and the kids started moving again. Sans relaxed. But it was hardly the right kind of relationship for him and the child to have. He was the adult here, after all.

Grillby’s core protested that line of thinking. What kind of relationship should they have, really? He _wasn’t_ their father, after all, and even if he was he’d never been the “respect your elders” sort. More of just the “respect” sort, prone to lectures and guilt trips. Now, he was giving himself a guilt trip as he realized that while he’d paid attention to both children intently, he’d only really _watched_ Sans.

Grillby emerged from his thoughts when Papyrus slid a paper to him silently. He was about to ask the boy what it was when Papyrus shook his head and picked up another crayon and started drawing again. Grillby looked at the picture. All there was on it was hands and arms, free or grabbing each other at various awkward angles. Almost all of them were black and white, indistinct, but one was colored bright, warm colors. His? Grillby looked to the refrigerator where he had hung the picture of himself Papyrus had drawn. His.

“Papyrus?” He said, “What did you draw here?”

“BIRD MONSTERS,” The child replied, holding up the new paper he was doodling on with far less purpose then the one Grillby now held. It had a myriad of figures with pointy faces, comically long legs, and misshapen arms.

“No, I mean this one.”

Papyrus didn’t even look up, but his voice was unusually flat as he responded with one word.

“TAKEN.”

\---

Grillby took a great deal of time talking to the children that day, trying to reassure them and himself that they were allowed anywhere in the building and were welcome to any of the supplies he’d brought for them, and as such worked well into the wee hours of the night. Long enough, in fact, that the boys had even wandered from the rec room to other parts of his establishment. Grillby worried about the boys as he worked, and the day passed unevenly because of it, speeding and slowing with little regard to logic. He’d look up from a simple task only to find an entire hour had passed, or wipe his brow expecting it to be 20 minutes later then it was. By the end of it all, he was exhausted.

At first, he’d been worried about transporting Papyrus to the bar in the first place, since he was still a little sick, but the child was cheerful enough tramping through the snow in his new boots. He was overly fond of them, an entertaining contrast to Sans who kept shaking and fidgeting his feet, nearly ripping them off once the elemental allowed it. He didn’t seem bothered by the socks, though, and padded around for the rest of the day on an inch of layered sock. 

Grillby even caught him playing with them at one point, smiling as he slid himself across the polished wooden floor of the bar. Papyrus had joined him, and for about a minute and a half they seemed like normal children until Sans looked up and noticed the elemental in the room. After that, he slid Papyrus to a booth, and the last Grillby saw of them for several minutes were feet hanging off the end of the bench, seeming to kick at each other. He heard laughter though, and little noises of delight from Papyrus and tried not to be offended.

Lunch was late and light, simple sandwiches that Grillby made between tasks and let the boys eat while sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him. That is how they seemed to spend to majority of their time, in fact, either watching him or disappearing into the room in the back. When Grillby checked on them, they were often sleeping wrapped around each other.

Occasionally Papyrus would be doing something – Drawing, or holding and manipulating one of the toys like he didn’t know quite what to do with it – and Sans would just be sitting, eyes closed or watching his brother. Only one time had Grillby walked in to find Sans distracted by something, and that was actually a poster some employee had hung on the wall years ago. Grillby didn’t know exactly what it even was of, only that it came from the surface and had been recovered from the garbage dump. It had stars in the background, though, and a number of animals and monsters in the foreground, as well as two abstract humans standing together and holding hands.

One of the times he was washing dishes, Sans had insisted on helping. Grillby wasn’t keen on the idea still, but he helped the boy find a step-stool and made sure to clear the sink of any dangerous items before letting him at it. Papyrus wanted to help too, so Grillby showed him how to dry things, and while still experiencing mixed emotions about it Grillby had to admit that it was nice to be free of the duty and free of the damned thick rubber gloves. He always broke something wearing the damn things – couldn’t feel what he had a grip on, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Dinner was a trial run for tomorrow’s recipes, and very little of it seemed to please Sans. Papyrus was happy, though, and kept commenting on how much he liked the food. It made Grillby feel a little bad, as it wasn’t his typical venue, but he kept track of things Papyrus really liked or Sans ate more than the required five bites of. It seemed the older boy figured out the concept of small bites by halfway through the meal, and Grillby wondered when and if he should make an issue of it.

The highpoint of the meal, by far, was the carrot soup. Sans took a spoonful of it before Grillby even explained what it was properly and didn’t show any signs of distaste. Papyrus, meanwhile, was busy playing with his reflection in the cutlery again. When Grillby spoke, however, the reaction was instant.

“LIKE THE BUNNIES AND CLEVER!” Papyrus exclaimed, his voice a little nasal and whiney from illness as his spoon hit the side of the bowl with a single loud clack. He seemed happy. And that, Grillby told himself, was what mattered. Happiness and safety. He could get to know the boys later, if they let him.

The boys were sleeping again when it was finally time to head home, and Grillby debated waking them. In fact, he debated moving them at all… They were passed out on the sofa, and it would’ve been very easily for him to take the bed in the corner. However he thought it better to keep the association between their room at home and bedtime, knowing that once he was set up for it they would likely end up predominantly doing schoolwork in the rec.

Papyrus popped up and was ready to go as soon as Grillby so much as brushed against him, but Sans took longer, taking agonizing minutes to lace his shoes. Grillby had shown him how to do it when they bought them, as well as this morning, and tried to resist offering now. The boy wasn’t asking for help, and after some frustrated noises and starting over completely at least once, he did a remarkably good job. They walked home together, and Grillby took the boys straight to bed, not making the mistake of letting Papyrus choose their pajamas and staring groggily at the storybook for a long while before hesitantly deciding no, he was too tired for that.

In truth, it was too painful. At least tonight it was. Tomorrow he would read the boys a bedtime story, he swore to himself, before kneeling to check on them one last time.

“Okay, you two comfortable?” For once, Sans nodded with Papyrus and Grillby smiled at them both, “Great. If you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs. Goodnight.”

\---

At first Gaster had been confused by the empty laboratory. Honestly, it suited him just fine, simplified his life quite a lot in fact. Still, it took him a moment to remember that it was Parent’s Day, a small, rather insignificant holiday that for whatever reason King Asgore had declared as work-free for servants of the king. The palace would be nearly empty, the guards standing watch paid a ridiculous price for their “overtime”… And the Royal Lab was left deserted. Gaster didn’t have time for holidays, though. He had work to do.

By the time he made his way all the way to The Core Access 3 Maintenance Shaft, his head had cleared significantly, which was a blessing considering the delicate work he was about to conduct. He went through the Access 3 Maintenance hatch and made his way to the Outer Operations Outpost 3-3. To most this was The Core. To him, it was the core. There was a difference.

OOO 3-3 was where he had his projects properly set up. Subject ASP-6-T hung illuminated by the ambient light of recycling energy and used ectoplasm, it’s suspension fluid notably cloudy just as Gaster had expected. The Machine sat nearby, and Gaster’s gaze lingered on it for a moment as he set up to prepare the soul fragments for insertion…

-

Again, there was nothing more to do but wait. A cruel twist of fate, as Gaster was no longer a patience man and had less time to spare than ever. He might of dusted his own life’s work then and there our of frustration had he not had something different to focus on: _Her_ Machine.

Gaster vaguely recalled looking at it. He’d found some notes in his basement office, too, but… Any memories he tried to recall specifically were hazy at best. He made sure all the dials and buttons were on their lowest settling before flipping the switch and… Nothing happened. Was it broken?

No matter. He wasn’t even entirely sure what it was supposed to do, and maybe, without anything selected… Gaster slowly and experimentally started twisting a single dial when suddenly he heard _voices_ all around him. Whispering. Incoherent.

His first thought was that he had been found out, but… No. The maintenance shafts echoed and had metal grating for flooring. Unless you could teleport, there was no possible way for you to move silently through them. And besides, Gaster had confiscated all the safety equipment, and the voices were coming from deeper in. Closer to The Core proper.

Maybe someone had a death wish. If not, they certainly would after Gaster found them.

He followed the voices through the long, winding corridors of the maintenance shafts. There was no pathway straight from the laboratory to The Core – That would be too dangerous. Instead, the core was built in stages, maze-like, around its burning center, with the two core-focused laboratories on opposite sides of the ring. Theoretically, you could walk from Gaster’s lab to the one closer to the king through the maintenance shafts, and when he was a younger man Gaster had done it. They were both Gaster’s lab, actually, he supposed, since The Royal Scientist was technically supposed to oversee both, but… He hadn’t been to the other location in ages, because he only had one office there. This gave him a grand total of _three_ offices.

Gaster frowned as he marched over the Outer Operations Outpost 2-3. How far in had the fools gone? He was beginning to think about all that safety equipment, quietly sitting in his office…

A couple hallways away from OOO 1-2, Gaster was forced to stop. His mind had started to swim again, a dull ache way back in his head. _God_ he was nauseated… Yet the voices continued speaking. He could pick out fragments of words now and then, now, but never anything that made sense. Broken syllables.

With a sigh, Gaster pressed on, leaning heavily on the guardrails attached to the wall. A few minutes later and he was out of breath, stumbling over the open, deserted space of the last OOO station. From here there was only the inner section of the core. Blessedly, the hallways were straight now. Here, if The Core had a real, Honest-To-Asgore breach that the rest of the winding hallways were designed to buffer, there wasn’t any point in trying to save lives with mere insulated walls. Without as much back and forth and curve, Gaster could now envision clearly where he was going. That didn’t mean he was in a state to envision it, though, even if he liked to think he could. His hands trembling as he dragged himself along the guard rail and his body fueled more by perseverance then actual thought.

That all changed when Gaster stopped and stared at the heavy, reinforced metal door, shocked out of his stupor. The voices _couldn’t_ be coming from there. _Nothing_ could be coming from there, it just wasn’t possible. And yet… This is where following them had led him. He debated for a moment, knowing that going through meant almost certain death unless he put on proper safety equipment, but the trail of left dust behind him made up his mind for him. What did it matter, anyway?

The door creaked open and the voices grew louder, confirming for Gaster that they were, in fact, coming from the inner sanctum of The Core itself. He wandered forward numbly, the door closing and sealing itself mechanically behind him, and stood in the small chamber between The Core and the long hallways that led to his laboratory. It was a safety measure, so that if there was only a minor a breach in the containment field – something that could be fixed virtually automatically - fleeing workers had two doors between them and exposing the rest of the underground to… Whatever was in The Core. He was still too stunned to give it much thought. 

Gaster closed one door behind him and started the process of opening the one in front of him. The small chamber he was in was mostly window, so he could finally see it, in all its blinding chaotic glory. The Core. 

It was huge, but not nearly as momentous as people seemed to think it should be. A cylinder of confined magic 30-50 feet and somewhat less variable in diameter, ranging between 8 and 15. It arched and sparked with random bursts of energy and ectoplasm, which would often float eerily in the air before merging back with The Core thanks to an automated maintenance beam that ran every minute to minute and a half depending on sensor readings. As he watched, a huge bolt of orange magic shattered outwards, followed shortly by a discharge of yellow plasm particles. 

Flashes of every color went across his vision, each accompanied which their own cacophonous sound that overwhelmed the whispers for just a moment… How had he been able to hear them from where he had been in the lab when he couldn’t hear the sound of the discharges? Gaster almost didn’t realize what had happened when the seal for the door finally released, accompanied by a faint hissing noise, and was nearly alarmed to find his own dusty hands wrapped around the handle mechanism. He must’ve been turning it for nearly a minute already, but… 

That didn’t matter.  
This was it.  
Time to go.

What would even happen if a monster was absorbed by the core?

The thought travelled through his brain lethargically, like a fish in syrup, nearly dying before he really registered it. He pushed the door open slowly, and as soon as it so much as cracked… Silence. He was surrounded by nothing but the astonishingly soft crackling hum that never left the core and reverberated through nearly everything, leading to much of the facility echoing that noise despite proximity. 

No whispers. No cracks of discharged magic. No flashes of light.

Gaster stepped into the chamber and looked around. Nothing happened. No one was here. Just The Core. He took a step towards it, feeling a sudden charge invade his entire being. Static, tingling, but so silent. What the _hell_ …?

In the still, Gaster lost all sense of time. He just stared and breathed, and did his best to keep breathing. His eyes quickly started to hurt from the blinding white glare of The Core, but he couldn’t take his gaze off of it. As they stared to lose focus, Gaster started to detect something beneath the gauze of white, something… Red. There was red in The Core. He already knew this, but he’d never _seen_ it before. Not with his own eyes. The Heart of The Core was red. Red. He took a strangled gasp, his ability to breath failing as his ability to stare did. He tried to gather his thoughts. 

The Core… It was… What?  
Maybe that was all of it.  
The Core just was.

Gaster felt a familiarity stir in his soul, something that made him _feel_ , and he stumbled closer yet to the tower of energy. 

Hopeful?  
No, desperate…  
Yearning.

He was drawn in like a moth to flame. He was close, far, far too close to The Core now – he should be getting fried by bolts of magic, but he wasn’t. It was like… 

Like the core was holding back.  
Like it knew him.  
Like it didn’t want to hurt him.

The voices… his…

“Hello…” Gaster wheezed, his breathing still -  
\- Not working -  
\- Thoughts fragmenting before he thought them.

“Hello!” He managed again, louder, more demanding, “Who’s there?”

Gaster started coughing and had to stumble backwards frantically to avoid falling into The Core. Instead, he careened backwards, his body seeming to him to shatter on impact with the cement floor. It wasn’t just warm, but hot beneath him, heated by centuries of The Core’s activity. It made him feel even more uncomfortable, but he didn’t have the energy to move. Every time he inhaled, something dry and suffocating slid down his throat with the much needed oxygen. He was suffocating on nothing, the air clear and pure around him, if saturated with energy. How could he-

The cracks.  
All the way down to his mouth.  
Gaster rolled over onto his stomach and coughed up thick, strands of saliva and mucus, tainted gray by his own remains.

The cracks must have broken through when he tried to yell, he realized, and then he’d breathed it in. Suffocating on himself.

\---

“SANS…” Papyrus managed in a harsh whisper. He’d just startled awake, and his spine spill felt like jello, transmitting the unsteady feeling of fear across his body. It was everywhere, running through his marrow in large clots he imagined as sickly gray splotches that radiated from the depths of his soul to the tips of his toes and the top of his cranium.

“SANS…” He repeated. He didn’t want to move to wake him – in his dream The Doctor was able to melt into the darkness. He didn’t want to be seen or heard.

Papyrus didn’t have the presence of mind to try to slow his breathing. Unlike Sans, the more animal of his noises had never been punished. So Papyrus panted and panicked in the dark of the room. At first he strained to see any shadow shift, any glow of warning in the dark - then he realized his own eye glow, while illuminating his surrounds slightly, betrayed his existence. He shut his eyes tight and held his breath, silenced himself, and the action brought a stream of ghost-sensations to the forefront of his mind that he fixated on unwillingly…

The _taste_ as something seeping…  
Loosing that his senses, not breathing…  
_Everything_ and _nothing_.

Silence save for the voice that _told_ -  
that _forced_ -  
that _soothed_ -

-him.

Screaming made it worse  
Because the silence  
Stayed.

All there was  
Was  
Inevitability…

Something bad was going to happen.  
He had been nowhere in his dream.  
The Doctor had been there, too.

Eyes shut, Papyrus was still with him. Eyes open, and there might be no escape.

Eventually, Papyrus worked up the courage to shift himself slowly, hand snaking beneath the covers centimeter by centimeter until he was able to brush against San’s ribcage. The amount of time this took was immeasurable, an eternity in one night, and Papyrus settled for just that contact to comfort him. Unable to find a place to hold the older boy, he griped his shirt instead, and waited in the night, feeling paralyzed and still alone.

Not long after Papyrus’ hand shuttered over his brother, Sans let out a moan in the night before trashing against the blankets. His magic, which Papyrus had first felt this night as a languid flow against his own, had sped like a river over shallows, turbulent across stones of disturbed thoughts and imagery. Papyrus was unsurprised when he heard Sans wake with a gasp.

“SANS?”

“pap?” a pause, “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“SANS… DO YOU SEE _HIM_? ”

“what do you-?” Sans’ voice cut out as he looked around urgently, “no… no pap, he’s not here.”

Papyrus opened his eyes, somehow still expecting the worst. Sans took a sudden intake of breath, covering his face with his hands. Papyrus struggled to understand, then realized it was the sudden brightness from his eye glow that startled the other boy. He had probably been trying to find Pap’s face in the dark, and the eye contact had temporarily blinded him. Papyrus sat up and looked around each corner of the room.

“CAN WE GO?”

“go?”

“DOWNSTAIRS.” Papyrus was already moving, scrambling off the bed with one of the blankets held tight. He turned and looked at Sans expectantly as the older boy hesitated. Eventually, Sans slide forward to join him, his own eyes glowing in the dark. They crept down the stairs together, Papyrus’ shaking form bound to his brother until they reached the bottom. The house looked different at night, empty. Papyrus led Sans through it.

“pap, did you have a bad dream too?” Sans whispered, “or do you need something? because I’m not sure…”

Sans trailed of as Papyrus followed the dim, flickering light that filtered through the living room to Grillby’s open door. They paused at the doorway, a combination of Papyrus’ newfound ease and Sans’ apprehension.

Grillby’s fire loosened when he was unconscious. When he was young or unhealthy, this could mean that the elemental’s flames consumed the material around him, converting it to energy. Now, as old as he was and healthy, it dimmed, consuming less energy as it gnawed at his inner reserves. Occasionally, there would be a little, quick flare of light or a crackle produced by the sleeping monster.

Papyrus took a step towards him and Sans instinctively pulled back. Papyrus looked at him and blinked, and Sans loosened his grip a little. With his newfound freedom, he edged himself into the room and found a good place to rest, sitting along the wall between the doors for the bathroom and closet, but not directly against it and watched the monster. A minute. Two. Sans joined him. They huddled together for a while, Papyrus offering half the blanket to his brother, until suitably calmed, and then stalled backwards to the floor.

“papyrus?”

Papyrus hooked an arm around his brother and dragged him down alongside him, and cuddled him in that way that only young people can quite achieve so that they were virtually one entity laying on the floor. Anxiety grated against dread, but bravery and patience reassured each other and both boys relaxed, if only a little. Just as Papyrus’ eyelids started to feel the slightest bit heavy, Sans murmured that they should go back up to the room, because the monster might… Something. Yet Papyrus felt no intent in the bones beneath his head to actually move, and sighed in tired response.

Both children went stagnant, neither quite reassured by the other’s presence enough to fall asleep. It didn’t help that while the floor beneath them was better the bedding they had slept on for years, it was far worse than the past few nights of luxury. Their eyes closed, they didn’t see the lighting shift, but a jolt passed through both of them as the floor creaked. Papyrus opened his eyes to find Grillby sitting up in bed and Sans struggling against his embrace to imitate the monster, murmuring indistinct apologies with unwarranted distress. Papyrus wondered if the monster even heard them as he stood and took a crooked step towards the skeletons, flames flickering lazily.

“Shhh, shh, sh,” Grillby mumbled, leaning down over the boys, “Come ‘ere…”

The monster reached out and scooped the boys up in a manner somewhat clumsier than normal. They were used to a version of Grillby who was hyper vigilant and calculated in his movements towards them, treating them delicately. Now, while both unharmed, the groggy and imprecise elemental allowed the boys to jostle together in his grip as he carried them to the far side of the bed. When he put them down, he stumbled trying to stand again, correcting himself through pure instinct. Sans and Papyrus were both quite awake now, watching the half-conscious elemental with rapt curiosity as he crossed again to the other side of the bed and collapsed back into it. Grillby adjusted himself for a few seconds, finally resting on his stomach with his arms supporting his head.

Impulsively, Papyrus reached out to poke him, but Sans grabbed his arm before he could make the motion. The two boys looked at each other, each becoming vaguely aware of the magic radiating off of Grillby, a warmth of a second type. And while Sans pulled away from it, Papyrus basked in it, shuffling into the blankets below with a appreciative sigh. Again Papyrus looked at his hesitant brother to reach out with a smile, knowing full well that the other boy will allow him to drag him into comfort with the right encouragement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Today is my birthday! I'd really love a comment or kudos if you have the time to spare one, particularly if it pertains to the content of this chapter. :-)
> 
> Also, I have an issue... There's going to be a scene that I have do and half don't want to include in this fanfic, and unfortunately it is meant to be almost entirely in Wing Dings, which cannot be posted on AO3 as anything but an image, meaning you cannot copy/paste it to translate it... So, what should I do? What I'm thinking of doing right now is having the first post in the comments section be a translation of the section. That do you guys think?


	30. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cool chapters don't NEED summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hello.**  
>  (Is it me you're looking for?)  
>  **If this text wall scares you just read the bold. It should make sense.**  
>  I've been reading and listening to some writing theories lately, and what I've understood is that if something doesn't happen twice, it's "not important". Well...  
> Welcome to twice land, ladies and gentlemen. We've got two of everything!  
> Even chapter title things... Huh. That couldn't mean anything, now could it?  
> Anyway, this chapter has so much fluff in it it's _almost_ like I'm trying to lead you into a false sense of security. But we _all_ know that I would never do something like that...  
>  *squints at the ending of chapter*  
>  _...NEVER!!!_  
>  **A few things** , now...  
> One, **update frequency is going to be reduced to twice a month at most.** I'm currently working a little over full time (40 hours a week for my paid job, then 8 for my volunteer work) and updating more often then this is practically impossible as I am also helping my Grandmother with home repair and helping host several friends and family members at my parent's house. Theoretically, I hope to be back to an update a week in mid-July, but no promises... I'm in a weird place right now. **Updates will also be going back down to 3000-6000 word average**.  
>  Two, **I'm going to start including songs for some chapters** when I have the opportunity, as it is something that I always intended to do. Many will be undertale related, themed off of other media's like today's is (Doctor Who), or just... Be a thing. **Chapter 30's song is[The Doctor is Dying](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i79VqFUiNUY)**.  
>  Third, who here likes Steven Universe? Well, **my lovely beta** for the first at least... 20ish chapters of this has just made an account on here and **posted a SU fanfic**. If you're interested, go give him some love! He certainly deserves it and I know that particularly the later chapters are a _great_ read! [**It's "Crystal Engineering"**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7164524/chapters/16263206).  
>  Fourth, I want to just say that **[saidno1ever's undertale fics](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saidno1ever/pseuds/saidno1ever/works?fandom_id=6541412) are fantastic**. They rank from lovely little fluff balls like ["It's Fine I PROMise"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6836239) to [This Brutality which actually came very close to making me cry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173668). no1 has beta read some of this, too, and also inspired me to write [this horrible monstrosity, **"Slumber and Spaghetti"**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7018891/chapters/15977044), **which has the top secret double-secret ending of this fic in it's comments section.**  
>  Fifth, [**doodlelou**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlelou/pseuds/doodlelou) **did the majority of the beta reading for this chapter, so if it's particularly good, blame them!** (I think this is a particularly good chapter, for the record. doodle's kinda amazing.)  
>  Sixth, **it's time to redo the summary and tags for this! So if you have suggestions, please please please comment!**  
>  Seventh, as ever, **thank you for reading!**

Awareness beat itself into Gaster’s perception like a nail driven into one’s foot by a heavy downward step. He gasped and tried to call out, but no sound was made. Awake, voiceless, and confused he floundered for a moment. Where was he? All he could see was white and gray and black and red. He was unable to make sense of what he was seeing until his sluggish, pained movements led him to the concept of “up”. He was on his stomach. This was the floor and his dust and his jacket and the glow of...

The Core. 

\---

“Hey, babe?” An irritated voice half-registered through the gaze of early morning, then, “…Babe? Wake up! Hello?”

“Ouch! Surfaces sake, Tisi! You _pinched_ me!”

“Well, you weren’t waking up… Doofus.”

“What? It’s still early…” Grillby frowned, looking at the clock sitting on Tisiphone’s dresser, “Why are you even up, Tis?”

“Listen.”

“Listen to what?”

“ _Just listen._ ”

Grillby paused and strained his ears. While he was listening, his wife pressed up behind him, scaled hands running slowly up his flank before she wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. A few of her snakes nuzzled the back of his neck appreciatively, flicking tongues tickling his skin as Tisiphone pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades. He leaned into her in return almost unconsciously, the familiar sensation of her body and soul behind him filling him with a sense of belonging. He didn’t hear anything for a while, closing his eyes again in concentration, when suddenly there was a clash from somewhere in the house, followed by childish, argumentative voices.

Grillby tensed, ready to push himself out of bed, “ _What in_ -”

Tisi’s snigger cut him off as she pulled him backwards, saying “It’s just the kids, hot stuff, don’t go running off. Stay in bed with me…”

“What are they doing?” He said, still somewhat concerned.

“Destroying your kitchen for you, I think.” Tisi said, amused, “Parent’s Day, remember? I’m predicting breakfast in bed…”

“ _I’m_ predicting a huge mess.” Grillby responded, “Shouldn’t I-?”

“Nah, let them be. They’re old enough…”

“What about Etney?”

“They won’t let their little sister get hurt. Have you seen the boys with her? Our girl’s got both of them wrapped around her pinkie finger ever since she started playing them against each other.” Tisi paused, and added almost bitterly, “Not to mention her daddy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Grillby said, “Like she doesn’t have _your_ number, too.”

“Fair enough,” Tisi replied, then burst into thin, hissing laughter, “We’re going to be _so_ screwed when that girl starts dating.”

“She _does_ take after her mother…”

“Oh, shut up and come here.”

Grillby allowed himself to be shoved onto his back, only adjusting the pillows behind him so he wasn’t buried by them. Tisiphone set her head on his chest and embraced him again, giving a contented sigh as the elemental ran a warm hand down her now exposed back, his other arm propped behind him to support his head. 

He allowed his touch to wander, crossing up her back again, only to brush down over his wife’s smooth scales. Neck, shoulders, side… He paused a moment just below her waist, rubbing a thumb thoughtfully over the slight, thickly flesh-padded suggestion of hip bone before moving on to give her ass a brief but appreciative squeeze. Tisi gave a little cackle, squirming next to him so that she could plant a kiss on his chest. The moisture from her lips lingered briefly after she pulled away, leaving a slight, sharp tingling sensation, and Grillby realized she had licked them just before kissing him. He smirked and leaned forward uncomfortably to return the gesture, and she made no motion to make it easier for him, simply watching until Grillby pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering to let his heat sink in before pulling away. He reclined again, arm now resting on her waist line and closed his eyes, releasing a long, satisfied exhale.

“Hmm,” She purred with a similar sentiment, “You really are my perfect little heating stone, you know that?”

“Yes, Parsnik.”

“Hey!” Tisiphone whined, a few of the snakes in her joining in with little teasing hisses as she punched him playfully on the shoulder, “I am _not_ a freaking Parsnik, thank you very much.”

“Really?” Grillby said with a smirk, opening one eye to gauge her reaction, “Just last night you were telling me to eat my green, tasty snake…”

“Oh, no!” She said, her voice deep with disbelief, “You _didn’t_ … Grillby! Just, no!”

“ _What?!_ ” He said, mock confusion breaking into a chuckle as he pulled himself up again, turning on his side towards his wife. She was blushing a lovely deep blue, the same color as the magic that thrummed within her, resonating with Grillby’s own integrity. She motioned to cover her face out of embarrassment, but Grillby gently captured her hand, bringing it up to his face to fix with a kiss before intertwining his digits with hers and cocking his impression of an eyebrow.

“Babe, that was _so_ bad…”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” She said, kicking his shin, “Don’t try to use that one ever again, please?”

“I don’t know,” Grillby said, shifting closer to her until he could whisper next to her ear, “Smells like tasty snakes to me…”

And with that, he rolled his weight on top of her quickly yet carefully, so as not to hurt her. Tisiphone let out a sharp little exclamation of surprise, struggling until she was able to loop her arms loosely around his neck. Grillby rested then, gazing at Tisiphone and her mischievous yellow eyes and smug grin. His wife pinned beneath him, Grillby had the sudden but welcome realization that he was the one who had been captured. She applied just the slightest pressure against his neck and he obeyed her will, dropping his head kiss her on the lips. It was a long, drawn out affair, and when Grillby pulled away Tisi’s smile was a measure less smug. The elemental took some satisfaction in that.

“Very tasty,” he commented, and Tis didn’t even bother to roll her eyes at him, simply challenging him with her scrutiny.

Her arms slipped from around his neck and glanced around Grillby’s chest before settling, one just below a shoulder blade, and the other on his lower back. The tips of Tisi’s fingers curled inward, shortly trimmed talons digging faintly into his flesh, enhancing the sense of their magic’s brushing against each other. Grillby kissed her mouth again before he moved a little lower, trailing the edge of his face down her neck and enjoying the way his very breath could cause her to go still for a moment. Then he reached her collarbone, littering it with kisses and relishing her cool, full body pressed against his own. He ran his hands over the apex of her chest, looking up again to catch sight of her face before he leaned low to kiss her breast, sliding one hand down, across her stomach and…

There was the muffled thump of a door opening a room over.

“Shit, Grillby! The kids!” Tisiphone said, pushing him off of her urgently, “Fucking breakfast in bed anyway!”

“Hey, shush. You don’t want them to overhear you, Tis.”

“Fucking Parent’s Day!”

Grillby laughed at her while he struggled to right himself and look casual, Tisiphone suffering much the same issue. Not that it really mattered, but… They were still trying to avoid having to explain “Mommy and Daddy Time” to the kids beyond just that statement. Their bedroom door rolled open, and the kids came in carrying chaotic trays of food. They were proud and beaming as they presented it, though Grillby’s attention was still more focused on the flushed woman beside him even as she leaned forward to hug her children, praising them. He wondered if he was still blushing, too.

\---

“Kai…” Grillby groaned unhappily, grimacing as alertness filtered into his sleeping mind. He was comfortable enough in his own bed, eyes closed, save for the scaly foot jammed into his back. While he didn’t mind Tisi letting the boys sleep with them occasionally when they had bad dreams, he’d rather not be literally kicked out of his own bed. Especially not considering the boys were-

Grillby’s eyes popped open. An empty space greeted him, unoccupied were Tisiphone’s dresser should stand. No. No…

Not scaly. Boney. He had been mistaken.

For a while, the elemental just laid in bed, unmoving, ignoring the sharp heel digging in between his shoulder blades. He didn’t look at the children as he got up, didn’t look at them until he was nearly out the door and even then simply glanced over his shoulder. _Sans_ and _Papyrus_ were sleeping peacefully, if sprawled at awkward angles, and Grillby couldn’t keep himself from feeling that same old sorrow deep in his core.

\---

It took great effort to roll over, but once he had he found himself sprawled on his back in the inner sanctum, the tower of magic monolithic in his view. The Core was all he could see as far as he could see, the hum of it suffusing his body. It was discharging now, though mildly, plasma particles released far, far above his head. For a moment – for forever - he was mesmerized again, time just… slipped away from him. 

Sand in an hour glass.  
Wine from a bottle.  
Golden tea from a teapot into an atypically plain mug.

It was a stray question broke his hypnosis.  
Why was he…  
_Here?_

The Voices. That was why, the answer coming with a simplicity that surprised him when everything seemed so complicated. The Voices had led him here and then fallen silent. They had been _here_ , though… He’d heard them… The Voices…

Gaster’s eyes started to drift shut, his thoughts singular and all consuming. _No_ was what paired with his brief resurgence, a dim flash of violet completely insignificance in the glare of The Core. Gaster’s limbs clattered weakly against the tiled floor as he tried to gain leverage against the weight of the universe, failing repeatedly until what little energy he had was sapped and darkness tried to cloud his vision, dragging him from reality.

That wasn’t…  
He wasn’t…  
He had to…?

Why was it so hard to think?

He had to get up.  
Go back.  
Try to stabilize Ti… Times?

Where had that thought come from?  
_His_ work had nothing to do with time.  
He needed to get as far as he could in his research, to prepare Subject ASP-6- _T_ so that his research wouldn’t die with him.

Hopefully the soul fragments and the de… termination… had... 

The loose-weave construct of Gaster’s mind unraveled, allowing him to slip unhindered into the heavy, inevitable tide of unconsciousness.

\---

“Good morning, Papyrus.”

Papyrus stared at Grillby for a moment, blinking lazily, before he shuffled over to the kitchen table. His head was still fuzzy, like there was some form of small, furry animal was nesting in his skull. At the moment, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, simply _off_ and distracting. The elemental’s voice had an unusual inflection that Papyrus perceived, but couldn’t process despite his efforts. Moving on from this fact, he asked:

“IS “GOOD MORNING” LIKE THANK YOU?”

“Not quite. It’s a greeting to exchange with people, like “hello”. A way to start conversation.”

“OH.” Then, “HELLO, GRILLBY.”

The corner of Grillby’s mouth turned upward as Papyrus watched him add more flour to the batter he was stirring. The skeleton smiled with a sense of accomplishment, knowing he’d pleased the elemental. He pulled himself up into the middle chair, after that, sitting with his legs pulled up into the seat with him so that he could position himself to watch the monster as he moved about the kitchen, adding the occasional ingredient. 

The slight smile Papyrus had prompted from him had quickly disappeared, replaced by a frown and a distance held tight around his eyes. Grillby turned to get something from the refrigerator and stopped suddenly, and though his back was turned to the child, Papyrus could sense a brief tension pass through him before the elemental opened the door and grabbed what he was looking for. When he turned back, Grillby’s face held the same sense of sadness but somewhat more intense now, and Papyrus noticed a difference in the motion of his flame. Grillby paused for a moment at the counter, running his hands over his neck and up, across his face. Then, he turned his head to look at the child intently.

For just a moment, Papyrus felt a jitter up his spine, a sense of intimidation caused immediately by that faint, miserable look. He’d seen it many times before, looking at him with the same sharp scrutiny The Monster seemed to be inspecting him with now. It was an expression that never changed in his experience. Yet even as he watched, the area near Grillby’s eyes relaxed, making him look more lonely than remote. The monster gathered up the bowl he had been working in, as well as the ingredients taken from the refrigerator and walked over to the table.

“Would you like to help, Papyrus?”

“HELP?”

“Yes. I was hoping you could crack the eggs for me… Here, I’ll show you.”

The elemental stood again, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet before returning. Then, he opened the carton.

“All you do is take one of these and knock it like this,” Grillby rapped the egg sharply against the top of the table, “Then you just… pour the insides into this little bowl I got here so that we can check to make sure there aren’t any shells before adding it to the batter. See?”

“YES-ss?”

“Awesome. Can you crack two more for me, then?”

Papyrus clicked his teeth together, feeling a little nervous.

“Y... YES.”

“Alright, go for it then.”

Papyrus picked one of the eggs up gently, surprised both by how heavy and how porous it was. Somehow, he had expected it to be smooth, like a stone. The texture of it actually reminded him of bone, but more delicate. Too brittle, he decided. He looked at Grillby before tapping the egg against the flat surface, only to pick it up and observe the underside to find it completely unscathed. Grillby smiled at this, one of his gently amused scoff-laughs escaping him as his flames flared almost imperceptibly higher.

“Gotta hit it a little harder than that, kid.”

Papyrus frowned and tried again, and again the egg was unscathed. He felt really nervous now and put it down on the table, watching as it rolled in a slightly elliptical manner back and forth. Drawing his arms back, he crossed them, hugging himself lightly.

“Papyrus? Are you okay?”

The boy nodded, trying to find words that worked. “I’M… MMM… I’M OKAY… MAY- MAYBE I SHOULDN’T DO TH-THIS…”

“Alright, if you don’t want to that’s fine…” Grillby said, “May I ask why, though?”

“I-I… I’M GOING TO BREAK SOMETHING.”

Grillby blinked and smiled an insincere smile, making Papyrus shift in his seat in discomfort.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point of cracking eggs.”

“NO. I’M GOING T-TO _BREAK SOMETHING_ BREAK SOMETHING… AND THEN…” Papyrus shallowed, feeling his soul pulsate faster, “ IT’S NOT GOOD TO-OO… BREAK THI-THINGS.”

“It’s not, you’re right…” Grillby said after a long moment of silently observing the child, “But its okay sometimes. Like when it’s an accident or like right now, when something is okay to break – Particularly if you’re making something out of it. How about we do these last two eggs together?”

He carefully selected an egg from the cartoon and crouched down next to the child, arm over the table. Papyrus uncoiled himself, reaching forward slowly for his own egg and feeling quite distinctly that his own bones were made of eggshell. Brittle.

“On three both of us will crack our egg, alright?”

Papyrus nodded.

“One… Two… Three! There, look at that. Perfect. Now, can you put that in the bowl for me? Awesome.”

Papyrus felt a sense of relief wash over him. Nothing bad had happened. He had broken something and it was fine. Even if it was something that Grillby had told him to break, it felt weird, because if he was being told to break things he should be in The Big Room, testing.

“Uh-oh, looks like there’s a little shell in there. Would you mind fishing that out for me, Pap?”

Papyrus responded sharply to the abbreviation of him name, turning sharply towards the monster. Grillby didn’t even seem to acknowledge he said it until he looked up at the child, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Papyrus shook his head. Nothing was wrong. He liked being called Pap.

“Alright, then how about you fish out this little chunk of shell here? I’ll get you a spoon…” Moments later, Papyrus had retrieved the fragment and was looking at the monster expectantly.

“Good work. Want to just pour that bowl into the bigger bowl now?”

“ON T-TOP OF ALL THE OTHER STUFF?”

Grillby nodded, “On top of all the other stuff.”

Papyrus poured the eggs in, watching as the yellow of the yolks sank beneath the beige of the batter. He looked at Grillby again, feeling distinctly accomplished. This was fun, he decided, hoping that the monster would give him something else to do. To his dismay, Grillby just smiled at him and thanked him, picking up the bowl and moving back to the counter where he stirred the mixture with quick little strokes.

“CAN I-” Papyrus started before cutting himself off. Grillby turned to him.

“Yes?”

“CAN I… I CRACK MORE EGGS TOMORROW?”

“Sure.” Grillby said, and Papyrus grinned to himself. Now that he knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble, he found a pleasure in the small destruction… And even better Grillby was making food with what he had done. It was a perfect situation in his mind.

“Is your brother still asleep, by the way?”

“UH-HUH, HE LIKES TO SLEEP.”

“I’ve noticed. Why is that?”

Papyrus felt his soul drop. He didn’t respond immediately, and Grillby turned towards him. Papyrus crossed his arms again.

“HE’S-SS S-SLEEPY…”

“That’s… not the whole reason, is it, Papyrus?” The elemental said, his voice suddenly that careful, quiet tone, “That’s okay. We’ll talk about it later, alright? Maybe… maybe after we get you and Sans settled in a little more. We can get past today, paint your room, and get everything moved back into there, okay? That should be a good time to talk about this.”

“N-NO…” Papyrus said, forcing himself to speak as clearly as possible only because he liked the elemental, “IT’S NEVER GOOD T-TO TALK ABOUT-T… T… DOC…”

“Yeah, I guess not… Can I come over there, kid?”

Papyrus nodded and the elemental approached him slowly, bending to one knee beside Pap’s chair before reaching for the child. Papyrus watched him carefully, but didn’t pull away, allowing Grillby’s arm to wrap around him. Every time they touched, it still amazed Papyrus how _warm_ he was, and in a different way than he was used to. This wasn’t the oppressive heat of Hotland he had internalized as “warmth” before the monster took them in, but a fine, pleasurable flow of energy that seemed to percolate through his bones and into his soul itself.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-YEAH…?”

“Your eyes were glowing.”

“OH.”

“How about we get you cleaned up a little and then you can go wake your brother up while I finish cooking. We need to leave for the bar in… Well, about an hour, but it would be helpful if we were there before that.”

“OKAY.”

\---

 

Gaster blinked, eyes already open and dry before he really regained thought. That was clearer now, at least, though his body still felt loose and ball jointed, like a child’s plaything. He spat up dust and tried to think. How long had he been here? He couldn’t tell.

That was normal, though. The Core could cause a sense of temporal distortion to those who didn’t properly protect themselves before exposing themselves to it. And he was very much exposed and very much unprotected. He had to… _go_ now…

His thoughts were clear, not intelligent, enhancing the doll-like dissociation he was experiencing. It didn’t really matter, did it? He was cracked and shattered, dusting, and almost grateful for the layer of insulated removal. In some ways, it was the best he’d felt in ages. He really, truly didn’t care. A pitiful little puppet pulled by purple strings, pursuing purple whims…

The pain couldn’t touch him anymore.  
Not the physical.  
Not the mental.

Jerkily, Gaster tried to stand.  
He found he could get to his hands and knees if he was slow and careful…  
But the vertical world seemed just beyond his reach.

He damned the puppet master and tried anyway.  
And to his great surprise found himself standing.  
He tried to walk, stumbling forward and-

\---

Sans and Papyrus were sitting together on the bed when Grillby walked in to get dressed. Sans’ eyes were still half-mast, as though the child were still contemplating the validity of trying to hide beneath the blankets to get more sleep. They watched him as he opened his closet, Papyrus asking him what he was doing. He said he was picking out clothing, and the boy responded with surprise.

“DON’T YOU WEAR THE SAME THING EVERYDAY?”

“No, I don’t. That would be… weird. I just wear very similar outfits.”

“OH.” Papyrus’ voice seemed oddly sharp.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“…WHY?”

Grillby struggled for a moment, eventually saying, “It’s professional… I don’t really have to think about it to look presentable, and that’s important to me.”

“…I SEE…”

Papyrus’ voice was off-tone when he replied, but Grillby didn’t notice. He was too busy watching Sans squint at him and trying to decide if the child was still just tired, or giving indication of judgement.

“I do have other things I could wear.”

“LIKE WHAT?”

“Well, like the Hawaiian shirt I wore a couple days ago for one, and other normal shirts in different colors. I’m not sure what you expect, kiddo.”

“CAN I LOOK?”

“Sure.”

Papyrus slid off the bed, and to Grillby’s surprise, Sans followed him. It didn’t strike him as the sort of thing that would interest the shy, sly boy. On the other hand, Sans had been surprising him a lot lately. They peered into the closet briefly, Papyrus seeming to lose interest much quicker than Sans did as he suddenly realized he got to pick out their clothing again.

“That can wait, Papyrus!” Grillby said as the boy suddenly started tripping over to the door, cringing inwardly at the thought of the clumsy skeleton walking up the stairs without the safety net of the elemental behind him. “How about you eat breakfast first? It’s on the counter waiting.”

“OKAY!”

Grillby gave a small, humored huff and turned to Sans who was still standing in his closet.

“You should go eat, too, Sans.”

The boy nodded, but lingered a moment, looking at the ROY G. BIV organization of Grillby’s non-white shirts.

“What’s up?”

“nothing.”

And with that, Sans walked swiftly after his brother. Grillby watched him go and shook his head dismissively. He had other things to worry about right now, and the entire conversation was just strange and unexpected. However as he reached for one of the neatly hung white shirts in his closet, Grillby paused, a small frown on his face as he considered the exchange. Well, he thought to himself, maybe he should wear more colors. And this particular day he was hosting a casual event, likely doing more socializing then cooking after the buffet was stocked. 

His thoughts went particularly to Bailey and her immediate family, and suddenly Grillby found himself undoing the buttons of a light olive green dress shirt. He tried his signature black vest on top of it, but quickly discarded it. Frowning at himself in the mirror, Grillby was about to change to his normal attire when he heard Sans shout. Instantly, Grillby abandoned his wardrobe choices to investigate the cause of the disturbance. He got to the kitchen to find the younger boy standing as if he had just gotten out of his chair, a sharp expression of concern (and a fair amount of syrup) on his face. He started walking quickly towards Grillby – no, past him, the elemental realized, as Sans cried out again from upstairs.

“papyrus!?”

Grillby turned to look up, hearing the scrabble of bones on floor boards. Soon Sans came into view, his eyes glowing bright in the shadows of the house. He looked panicked, and froze as soon as he spotted Grillby, expression morphing into confusion as Papyrus stepped from behind the elemental.

“SANS?”

“you…” Sans looked behind him, then back down the stairs, blinking as the blue glow slowly faded. He clomped down the stairs one at a time, watching Grillby as he descended. Standing on the last step, he reached out and poked Papyrus in the middle of the forehead, to which the younger child pulled back from and frowned at. He looked like he was about to open his mouth to complain when Sans suddenly grabbed him in a bear hug, awkwardly lifting the younger sibling from the ground.

“don’t do that to me!”

“DO WHAT!?” Papyrus said, obviously offended as he attempted to lever his brother off of him.

“ _move_ like that!”

“MOVE? I DIDN’T GO ANYWHERE!”

“papyrus, you know what i mean.”

“NO I DON’T!”

“you left me upstairs!”

“WHAT?” 

“in the closet!”

“GAH! SANS! STOP! YOU’RE CHOKING ME!”

“Hey, boys… come on, now.” Grillby interrupted, his voice slightly louder than he had meant for it to be, “Let’s eat, okay?”

In an instant, Sans had recovered and was looking at the elemental with minor concern.

“…sorry…” the boy said softly, averting his eyes. Grillby blinked. Had Sans ever apologized before?

“No problem, Sans. I didn’t mean to sound irritated, but you and Papyrus need to eat, okay? I really should get to the bar as soon as possible.” Grillby said, measuring his voice carefully as he spoke. He looked up the stairwell before turning back to the children, “Food should be on the table. Pancakes, today – try not to add too much syrup. I’m going to go pick out some nice outfits for you and Papyrus.”

Papyrus groaned as his brother pushed him into the kitchen. Grillby waited until they sat down and he could hear the metal ware clinking against their plates. The way the boys ate now they’d be done quickly, little half-starved maniacs. Halfway up the stairs the thought made Grillby pause. He’d meant it as a joke, but... They were both so _small_ …

He continued upwards, stepping carefully near the wall to prevent the floor from creaking. He got a sinking feeling as he rose, something blackening his core, a sensation other monsters might describe as a chill. Walking into the bedroom, he looked around carefully, not expecting to find anything but also slightly spooked. He knew what someone had done to the children… He listened to enough radio dramas to know that if real life played by the same rules, then someone else was going to get hurt before the broadcast was over. Edging to the closet, he opened it slowly, immediately chastising himself after he found it empty. He didn’t know why he felt the sense of dread he did, but… It was familiar somehow. Like a long-forgotten memory.

Grillby shook himself and sorted through the closet, selecting three interchangeable outfits he considered acceptable so that both children could have a choice in the matter without taking all day. He was nearly out the door when he stopped dead and turned around. The bed.

More specifically, _under_ the bed.

As he drew closer to the bed, he couldn’t help but feel something was about to leap out and grab his ankles, drag him off into the unknown, a portal opening up to swallow him whole. He had to force himself to drop to all fours, and then lower his head… Grillby laughed at himself. Nope, no humans under the bed today. Just a bit of pocket lint and… Was that a power bar? Where the hell had that come from? Grillby left it be. Really, what had he been thinking?

\---

Gaster blinked away the purple glare of disorientation.  
Alright.  
Perfect, really.

But…  
Distortions.  
He just… forgot.

That…  
Made sense…  
Right?

No, but that didn’t matter.

Gaster went back to work.  
Perseverance.  
Doubt.

 _Four_ more units injected sub-cortically into bone.

Subject ASP-6-T writhed within the suspension fluid.  
Gaster watched numbly.  
Was it even worth it?

\---

Things were going well. The guests were happy in the main room, the kids were happy in the rec room, and Grillby was happy to be back to his life’s work. It was a delight to him to be busy, cooking, socializing, and checking in occasionally on the children. They seemed content to see him, and close enough to cheerful when he brought them snacks that he couldn’t keep from grinning widely enough that Bailey commented on it.

“Catch a canary?” The rabbit woman asked.

“What?”

“Oh, um… You look like the cat who caught the canary.” Bailey paused awkwardly, and Grillby noticed her flush. She looked about to apologize or explain herself when Grillby’s attention was stolen, a high, reedy wail cutting through the ambient noise of the crowd. The elemental hurried over, both out of honest concern and a sense hostly duty.

“Butterscotch, hush now, my darlin’,” Buck said, his gentle yet clueless eyes betraying his complete loss at what to do to sooth his daughter.

“THERE’S… TOO MANY… PEOPLE!” She said between great sniveling weeps, glossy tears running down her golden-brown facial fur, “I WANT… TO GO… HO-O-O-ME!”

“Hey! Um, Grillby, right?” Buck called, eyes darting up in a near-panic, “Can I ask you something?”

“What can I do to help?” Grillby offered.

“Is there, uh, any chance I could sneak into the back with you?” The deer monster asked, holding his daughter gently in his arms, “I think Butter’s just a little overwhelmed, and-”

“Certainly,” Grillby said, leading him to the kitchen without a second thought. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Butterscotch quieted, her wailing dying down to a shaky sob. Grillby offered Buck a stray barstool.

“Thanks, man… You ever have kids?”

“Um…” Grillby tried very hard to think of a way out of the conversation. Luckily for him, the question was rhetorical.

“It’s tough! I mean, things are great, but now we’ve got three new little ones keeping us up all night, and now the twins are acting up, probably because they feel neglected, and…”

Grillby let the man ramble for a while, wandering over to check on the food supply. All the while, Butterscotch’s crying quieted, and soon she was just standing in her dad’s lap, grousing pitifully whenever he tried to peel her away. When Grillby crossed behind them, however, he could see the child’s bright green eyes following him, alert and mischievous. Little devil… He smiled to himself and continued halfheartedly listening to Buck as he worked, gaining the distinct impression that this was a man who hadn’t had a friend who would listen to him in ages. Whatever. The situation seemed to do good to all those involved, and he didn’t mind the company. At least, not until Butterscotch spoke up.

“Oh! Hello!”

Her voice was softer then Grillby expected, his only experience with the girl the howling from mere minutes ago. He turned to her sharply, and followed her gaze to find Papyrus peeking out from the rec room. As he watched, it seemed as though he was pulled away. Sans’ influence, Grillby guessed, trying to subdue his growing concern about the situation.

“Are those your sons?” Butterscotch asked, turning and sitting on her father’s lap. Buck seemed to be struggling to look over his shoulder, a comedic gesture for a monster who had an impressive neck, but was honestly built to be quadrupedal. Simply put, his bones didn’t bend that way.

“Not exactly,” Grillby sighed.

“Those are the kids that Bunnie…” Buck trailed off, “I mean, that _Bunbun_ was talking about?”

Grillby nodded silently.

“Huh. Well, I thought she was full of shit.”

“Daddy, no!” Butterscotch scolded, “Give me your quarter!”

Buck laughed, “That’s not the way it works, cottontail. I’ll put it right into the jar myself, just like I always do. Nice try, though. And that was only worth a nickel.”

“What was worth a nickel?”

“Saying shit,” Buck said, and Grillby could tell by the man’s mannerisms that this was a game they played often. Something deep within him twanged jealously. Painfully so.

“Now it’s a dime…” Butterscotch said through a grin.

“Oh, no! You got me!” Buck said, smiling at his daughter’s resulting giggle before he turned his attention back to Grillby. “So, they, uh…?”

“Yeah.”

“Oof. Well, here I am complaining about my life and here you are taking in strays. That’s awful decent of you.” Buck frowned a moment, “How old are they? Maybe me and the wifey could pass over some hand-me-downs? Of course, we’d have to take them all the way from the forest district past the capitol…”

“I appreciate the offer, Buck, but I think we’re good. Thank you, though.”

“No problem. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Dad!” Butterscotch had been struggling to get loose from her father for a few moments, the word coming oout as an irritated whine. Grillby appreciated that the man was aware enough of the situation to detain her, gently, to his lap.

“Think it’s time to rejoin the party, little girl?”

“Nooo… I wanna meet the other kids!”

Buck smiled apologetically at the elemental, “Well, darlin’, you might get a chance next time we visit cousin Bonnie and Bailey and Auntie Leveret, but right now I think it’s better if-”

“-GOOD MORNING!”

Grillby cringed. It was well past afternoon and Papyrus was standing several steps into the kitchen, past the point Sans could reach while safely huddled behind the rec room’s walls. Behind him, Sans’ eyes were hunter’s moons of fear risen in his eye sockets, his hands barely visible gripping the doorway he hiding behind. Before either adult could react, Butterscotch changed tactics, wriggling her way up her father so that she could wave at the newcomer.

“Hiya!” She called, “I’m Butterscotch! Who are you?”

“I’M…” Papyrus’ smile seemed to fade as he realized how exposed he was when Buck finally corralled Butterscotch enough to turn towards him, “P-PAPYRUS…”

The child stumbled back a step, and Sans lunged for him, barely snagging the corner of his shirt but gaining enough leverage to drag Papyrus back to the doorframe. Sans wrapped one arm around his braver sibling, peeking over Papyrus’ shoulder with one eye to watch the interaction.

“Who’s that behind you?”

“SA-SANS…”

“Huh?”

A strange look crossed Papyrus’ face and he stood straighter again, pulling himself and his brother forward just a quarter step. Behind him, Sans seemed to growl.

“MY BROTHER SANS. HE IS VERY AFRAID OF YOU AND YOUR… BIGGER PERSON.”

Butterscotch giggled. “He’s scared of Daddy? That’s stupid!”

“Butterscotch Daucus Wolpertinger!” Buck started scolding automatically.

“ _Sorry!_ ” Butterscotch groaned, “I meant that’s _silly_. My dad can’t even squish the big green worms that eat our tomatoes. My brother can, though. He uses the shovel!”

Buck shot Grillby a look which the elemental returned, the two men at a bit of a loss.

“YOU HAVE A BROTHER, TOO?” Papyrus seemed amazed by the idea.

“Well, yeah. Didn’t I just say that?”

“I NEVER MET SOMEONE ELSE’S BROTHER…”

“You’re weird.”

“Butter-”

“ _Sorry!_ ” Butterscotch’s ears twitched and Grillby was quite certain the child was rolling her eyes, “Do you want to meet my brother? He smells…”

The child stopped suddenly and reached up and behind her to cover her father’s ears with her paws before whispering, “He smells really bad.”

“Now, Butter, I think that’s enough-” Buck said, attempting to stand.

“YES!” Papyrus interrupted the man, and Grillby wondered how the normally timid child was so willing to express himself at the most shocking or inconvenient of times.

“Alright! I’ll go get him!”

And with that, Butterscotch slipped her father’s grip and ran off. Buck made a grab for her, missed, and then simply gazed after her. Grillby watched familiar mixed emotions of love and agitation play against each other on the deer’s face. Ultimately, love won, and Buck looked back up to him.

“Grillby, I am sorry for that. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no… it’s… fine…” Grillby rubbed the back of his neck, “Inevitable, really. How about you, uh, introduce yourself to the boys?”

“Okay,” Buck sat down again and waved at the children, “Hello. My name is Buck. It’s nice to meet you.”

“HELLO-O-” Papyrus stammered as Sans yanked him backwards again, the older skeleton completely disappearing back into the room behind them. “SANS! HE’S A NICE ONE, LIKE GRILLBY!”

Sans said something that Grillby strained to hear, but couldn’t make out, seeing only the other man’s quizzical reaction as Papyrus finally popped behind the obscuring wall. Buck’s ears swiveled over to Grillby and the deer monster cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are they always like this?”

“Pretty much,” Grillby said, “Usually worse.”

“So Bunbun wasn’t stretching the truth at all…”

Grillby nodded sadly, though he doubted that was the truth. Bunbun had almost certainly embellished what she’d been told, but... it could hardly be worse than the reality.

“Can you hear them?”

Grillby shook his head.

“Well, they’re arguing. I think a Gyftrot gave ’em a hard time at some point.”

“Ah.” Grillby acknowledged, wandering closer to the rec room. He knocked on the open door to announce himself before peering in. The boys were staring at him, Sans obviously in the middle of giving Papyrus a long, unwanted lecture.

“Come on, you two…” He said with an apprehensive frown, “How about you come out and meet Mr. Wolpertinger.”

“Buck’s fine, Grillby. I’m not picky.” He heard Buck offer from behind him.

Sans was distraught as Papyrus stood, marching over to the open doorway like it was his life’s mission. Meanwhile, the older boy looked beseechingly at Grillby and the elemental felt his core squeeze uncomfortably under the gaze, but held a hand out to the child. Sans didn’t take it, of course, but he did use Grillby as a sort of mobile shield as he followed the younger child into the kitchen. The elemental was trying to remain within scooping-up distance should something go poorly, and he deemed it appropriate to end the interaction. At this point, Papyrus was standing just a few feet from the stag, expression curious and strangely troubled.

The big monster reached out to the little skeleton, and instantly Sans’ lost all sense of timidity, rushing between the two and pushing his brother back. He glared at Buck as harshly as he could, and while Grillby found the attitude disconcerting, the deer monster’s face seemed to light up with amusement.

“Hello, Sans.” He chuckled, and Sans’ face twitched from aggressive to guarded as he forced Papyrus back another step. “You remind me a little of my son. He was a little like you when he was a couple years younger, very protective of his sister. Which is ironic, these days…”

The deer monster didn’t have a chance to explain further. As if on cue, the swinging door to the kitchen made a whooshing sound as it burst open, Butterscotch’s padded pawsteps joined by a gentle clacking of hooves. Both children appeared to be rabbit monsters initially, but with somewhat sharper, more delicate features lent them elegance even with their rounded child-proportions and last patches of baby fat. Butterscotch was more stereotypically feminine in nature, her nose the small, raspberry-colored skittle commonly associated with rabbits. Her brother, on the other hand, was more influenced by their father’s genetics. This caused him to have slightly elongated limbs for a rabbit and to host a large, shiny black nose on his more muzzle-like facial structure. He had wide-set, brown eyes and the dappled coat of a fawn. Both children, if you looked carefully, had buttons on their head, a sign that one day soon they would sprout horns to match their father.

“See? I told you!” Butterscotch said, and though Grillby didn’t know the context, he knew that her brother’s expression remained distinctly skeptical.

“Hi Papyrus! Oh, Sans came out, too? That’s good.” Butterscotch said, coming forward and climbing her father as if he were a piece of furniture, “This is my brother, Hopscotch!” 

“Hello,” Hopscotch started, walking forward and squinting at the other boys, “Are you guys real skeleton monsters? Because I’ve never seen a skeleton before and I’ve seen every kind of monster there is. I even saw King Asgore once! He offered Ms. Stewart tea on my class field trip, but she didn’t want any because she was getting sick a lot because she was about to have a baby, but then the baby was born and she named it Brix which I think is a _stup_ …”

Hopscotch’s eyes darted towards his father, ramble paused for a mere millisecond before he continued, “ _Bad_ name but after that she didn’t get sick anymore, and I asked her if she wanted to go get that tea Asgore offered her but she didn’t remember what I was talking about.”

The whole room just sort of stared at Hopscotch for a moment until he snorted impatiently.

“Well? Are you real skeletons or not?”

“UM…” Papyrus looked uncertain, “YES?”

“Oh, wow! That’s really cool.” Hopscotch said, “Do you know all the names of your bones? Because I have one friend who’s a-”

“Hop!” Butterscotch interrupted him, “Can you just give them the things, please? I want to eat mine now!”

“Oh, yeah!” Hopscotch exclaimed, pulling a mass of balled up napkins from his satchel. He handed one over to Butterscotch before holding some out to Sans and Papyrus. The other children didn’t take them at first, not until Hop reached out and grabbed Sans’ hand and put a couple in it. The skeleton child stiffened immediately, eyes flashing blue before he realized that Hopscotch had lost virtually all interest in him as soon as he had handed over the items, to busy unraveling his own napkin to reveal a cinnamon bunny beneath. Sans backed away sharply, jumping as he bumped into Grillby’s leg before moving to hide behind the elemental once again. 

Sans’ magic was frantic, Grillby realized, and offered a hand for the boy to grip without thinking about it. Sans blinked and followed the limb upward, looking to Grillby with a mixture of fear and inquiry. The elemental smiled, trying for reassuring and failing before breaking eye contact. He let his mouth draw to a tight line and allowed his arm to fall limp to his side. The furred monsters were talking again, and he tried to pick up on what they were saying. He was just tuned in when boney digits wrapped lightly around one of his fingers, just one, and looked down to see Sans’ still looking at him with a deep frown. Inelegantly, Grillby tried to squeeze Sans’ grip, communicating physically what he couldn’t emote, and the child’s hold tightened dramatically in return.

Grillby let himself relax a little. Sans was still tense, but less than he had been moments ago, which in and of itself hadn’t been bad by Grillby’s now very low standards for the children. He knew that if the child’s other hand weren’t full of sweets, he’d be prying at some part of himself right now, but as it was Sans was forced to simply shift his weight back and forth on his half-inch thick layers of socks. Papyrus had wandered closer to his brother, looking first with interest to the packages Sans was holding, and then furrowing his brow as he looked up to see his brother’s expression. He came nearer still, slipping sideways against a counter so that he could stand directly beside Sans, brushing against the other boy’s arm as he moved. Grillby appreciated that the kid’s efforts.

“Hop,” Buck started, “How many do you have in there?”

“Just the four, Dad!”

“Ew! Hop, this is a cinnamon one.”

“I got ’cha!” Hopscotch said, digging through his satchel for another napkin. He looked up to find his father looking at him quizzically, and frowned, before saying, “Alright, fine! Six! But that’s only because _your daughter_ has odd tastes and I didn’t know if these kids would be like her and want Butterscotch Bunnies, alright?”

“Hop…” There was a distinct warning in Buck’s tone that Hopscotch ignored.

“What! I didn’t say anything bad! Mom says it all the time and it’s not like I’m stealing! Cousins Bailey and Bonnie said we could have as many as we wanted! Even Great Aunt B said it was fine!”

“I’m having more issue with the attitude, young man.” Hopscotch looked taken aback, clearly unused to this form of scolding from his father, “Hopscotch Cornumara Wolpertinger, you _and your sister_ promised me and your mother that you would be on your _best_ behavior today and _look_ what you’re doing. You _lied_ to me, and now you’re trying to lecture me? What do you think Mr. Grillby is going to think of me now, having two disobedient children?”

“Oh, um…” Hopscotch murmured, his cocky tone vanished in an instant, “I’m… I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Me too!” Butterscotch squeaked, her eyes glistening slightly beneath the florescent lights. Grillby wondered if she was honestly upset or if she was just preparing herself for another round of crocodile tears.

“It’s no big deal, guys…” Buck said, exasperated, “Just… Be _good_ , okay?”

“Okay…” Hop said, then, “Would you like a sweet too, da?”

“Nah,” Buck snorted, obviously noting his son’s suddenly infantile tone, the mild tension evaporating from the room, “Offer one to Mr. Grillby, though, okay?”

Hopscotch turned to the elemental, who said, “I’m good, thank you.”

After the kid turned back towards Sans and Papyrus again, Grillby noted Buck’s slight hypocrisy when it came to titles. The Wolpertinger kids were digging in now, Butterscotch seemingly pleased with a slightly paler version of a cinnamon bunny. After a moment, Hopscotch started again.

“Is there someplace we can sit down?” The young monster asked, twitching his ears.

Papyrus looked over to the rec room, and the other children picked up on the gesture, wordlessly starting for the room in the back. Sans backed up as the two other children approached him, passing his brother accidently and pressing himself against the island countertop. The small tribe of children passed into the room, leaving Sans trailing behind his brother, seeming slightly flabbergasted. He turned and took another look at the adults, before staring at the napkin-wrapped sweets in his hand and edging his way into the room.

Grillby followed them, leaning heavily against the doorframe as he watched the peculiar interactions of the children. Eventually, he sensed Buck join him, and the two men watched for several minutes as the awkwardness between the children seemed to ease, even Sans seeming to relax as he bit into one of the confectionaries. His eyes seemed to light up as Grillby watched, though he noticed suddenly that both of the skeletons were eating the sweets with little, measured bites… Trying to make it last.

“Well,” Buck said, “They seem to be getting along alright. Should I try to get mine back to the party or just leave them?”

Grillby shrugged. Honestly, he wasn’t sure. But he was going to be in the back anyway and could keep an eye on them… What really could go wrong? The boys panicked, they didn’t attack, and Butterscotch and Hopscotch seemed like good kids. He couldn’t imagine Sans or Papyrus holding any ill intent towards them. The interaction with someone closer to their own age might do them some good, he decided.

\---

Thirty units.  
God, what was he even doing?  
This was beyond stupid.

Reckless.  
But…  
Very, very interesting…

He tried to ignore the burning sensation.  
It would pass.  
Maybe everything would pass.

He tried to be alright with that.  
Off to his right, he realized a light on The Machine was blinking red.  
…On off on off on off on off on off…

Five flashes in quick succession.  
It was still on…  
He’d left The Machine on.

\---

“You can eat, you know.” Hop said to Sans and Papyrus, “I gave you each one, but if you want another that’s okay… What flavors did you get anyway?”

For a while, nothing happened as the two skeleton boys sat together on the couch across from Hopscotch and Butterscotch who had bounded onto the twin sized mattress, their spring-loaded musculature allowing them to easily mount the furniture. When he realized what he was expected to do, Sans gingerly started unwrapping the packages.

“Oh, yuck! Looks like both of yours are Butterscotch!” Hop cried, and Sans wrinkled his brow in response to the noise.

“Butts here is a _weirdo_ – don’t tell my dad I said that – and doesn’t like normal cinnamon bunnies, so because of that me and Mom and Cousin Bonnie and Cousin Bailey and Great Auntie Babette and Bunbun and Sis all worked on making something else and I think they’re super gross but Butts loves them and-”

“Hop! Stop calling me Butts, that’s not my name!”

“-I really hope you like them, too, because that means that there will be more cinnamon bunnies for me and I _really_ like them. It’s really cool that I got to help make the bunnies, though! Because now I know how to do it and I can get my Mom to help me make them whenever I want, because she used to say that Bailey and Bonnie and Auntie Babette all had their own secret recipes but I can’t taste a difference so I think that’s stupid since they all worked together to make the butterscotch flavored ones… You know, though, Cousin Bonnie and Cousin Bailey aren’t really our cousins because they’re _super_ old. They’re, like, our aunts twice removed or something, or maybe my mom’s cousins? I don’t really know. We just call them our cousins though because rabbit families get _really_ big, so, like, one day the triplets grandchildren or whatever might call me cousin even though I’ll be their great-great-great-great-great-uncle… I might have added a few extra greats there, but that’s okay, because you know what I’m talking about! Anyway, how do you like the butterscotch bunnies?”

Sans wondered how the little monster could just… _talk_ like that. On one level it irritated him because both the little monsters were so _noisy_ , and noisy was dangerous, but on the other it was strangely encouraging to listen to, like when Grillby read to them. He was still staring at the bunny boy blankly, wondering how many of the words he said actually meant something when Papyrus reached for one of the sweets Sans held, taking it and biting an ear off. Sans turned to watch him, and a strange look seemed to cross his face.

“THEY’RE GOOD…”

“You don’t like them either, do you! See? I told you they were stupid, Butt-Butt!”

“That’s even worse!” Butterscotch said, “Knock it off!”

“Butt, Butt, Butt, Butt, Butt…” Hop chanted, goading his sister as he sorted through his satchel pack. “Here, um… Papyrus, right? You can have one of the _good_ sweets! Split it with Sans if he wants one, though, because _I’m_ eating _two_!”

“That isn’t fair! Stop being such a pig!”

“You stop being such a butt, Butt!”

Sans blinked as the two rabbits threw themselves at each other, somehow sensing that there wasn’t really any malicious intent behind the fighting, but shifting nervously none the less. He looked to Papyrus who looked at him, and the two skeletons blinked at each other a moment. Then, Papyrus beamed at Sans and started leaning towards him, collapsing into his boney sibling.

“oof” was the simple exclamation as Sans was bowled over, struggling for a moment not to drop his own butterscotch bunny. 

Luckily, Papyrus wasn’t interested in roughhousing, his head cold taking enough energy that he was content just to press Sans half against the wall and not let him up. Sans, for his part, simply made himself comfortable, continuing to watch the more energetic monsters mess up the bedding as they played with each other. Eventually, Hop pinned Buttscotch and started tickling her mercilessly, her squeals boisterous and corrosive to Sans’ fearful and reserved nature. He noticed Grillby peeking in at the racket, and felt another coil of tension evaporate. As long as they were with him…

A swift kick with her powerful hind legs, and Hop was the one under assault by Butterscotch. The girl was amazingly ruthless, using a combination of the pillow and her weight to pin her brother’s legs so that he couldn’t use a similar tactic… Sans looked to Papyrus who was finished with his first rabbit and now nibbling in his second, darker, treat. Sans grinned and snaked an arm behind him before going for the ribcage, causing the younger child instantly to seize.

“NYEEEH!!!” The sound was more irritated then Sans was used to, but still made him smile as he flopped his brother down to the cushions, following suit to lay atop him. The fight was over before it even started, leaving Papyrus to complain, “SANS! I CAN’T EAT MY BUNNY LIKE THIS!”

\---

Gaster stood to investigate and turn the machine off…  
After all, only _she_ knew what it really did, and _she_ was dead.  
Gaster smirked at that.

 _She_ was dead.  
_He_ was dead.  
And they both were acting so [ir]responsibly.

Gaster felt himself slip and looked down to see his own legs turning to dust beneath him. 

He couldn’t correct.  
Couldn’t save himself.  
He was falling.

It didn’t work  
It couldn’t work  
It never would’ve worked

Red was everywhere-  
red on him-  
red in him.

Red  
was  
mixing

with  
his  
dust

and  
Gaster  
screamed…

…But nobody came.

\---

It was just before dinner, and Grillby was rushing to finish off the entrees when there was a ruckus in the main room of the establishment. Grillby’s first instinct was to check on the kids, but he found them crouched together on the floor, toys scattered about them. That was good, and he felt assured enough of their safety to investigate. Turning the heat up beneath the carrot soup, he pushed his way out of the back and into none other than Heats Flamesman himself.

“Uncle Grillby!” Heats yelled, his voice far louder than the situation warranted. He was a short man, and when he wrapped the other elemental in an unwelcome, too-tight hug, his head struck just above were Grillby’s navel would be, if he had one. “Bring it in, man! Surface sake! How long has it been?”

Grillby couldn’t bring himself, quite, to return the parasites’ hug. Instead, he begrudgingly patted the smaller elemental on the back, twice, before speaking in his most professional and moderated tones.

“Heats, do you think, perhaps, that we could speak in the back for a moment?”

“Sure thing, B-man, my man!” He pulled away from Grillby, turning to the crowd of rabbits and other assorted monsters, and proclaiming, “Sorry ‘bout that little mix up, dudes! Have a hella sweet anniversary or whatever.”

And with that, Heats backed towards Grillby while making gun fingers at the reunion patrons. Grillby couldn’t even become more upset. He just opened the door and stepped out of the way so that he didn’t need to touch the other elemental any more than necessary. Before he let the door swing shut, Grillby stared over to the crowd blankly, surveying the expressions. There was annoyed, shocked, and amused, but most of all offended. Definitely offended, especially Bunbun. Great.

The only two people who wasn’t staring at them was Bailey, who had averted her eyes with one hand over her mouth, face puckered and flushed in such a manner that it was quite obvious she was containing laughter, and her mother, Leveret, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason. _What_ had Heats done? Once the door was closed behind them, both elementals released great sighs of tension.

“Heats,” Grillby started, “Why are you here?”

“Look, man, dude… I didn’t mean to like, interrupt your party or whatever. I just came over through waterfall, and I forgot an umbrella. So, when I came in I was still really flustered especially ‘cause, like, right after that I saw this weird dude on a boat who just gave me this wretched feeling straight down to my core, you know? Like I was being watched or something? Like this dude, they were all-”

“ _Heats_ , what do you want?”

The smaller elemental’s eyes suddenly went very, very large, and he reached up to rub his neck. Huh. Must be hereditary. Heats’ mouth opened and shut a couple of times and Grillby realized that even for Heats, the conman seemed exceptionally nervous.

“Well, uncle Grillby… I’m kinda strapped for cash and I was thinking-”

“How much?”

“O-oh, uh…” _Exceptionally_ nervous, Grillby thought as Heats stuttered, “Don’t worry about that! I was just thinking that maybe I could work for you for a while like I used to? You know, bus tables and stuff? I’ll even do the dishes so that you don’t have to! And I’ll just sleep in the back, you won’t even have to-”

“You owe someone money, don’t you?”

“-I swear _uncle_ Grillby I didn’t know what I was getting myself into!”

“Just tell me how much so that we can get this over with, please.” Grillby said. His patience was showing, his tone even, if slightly curt. He didn’t _sound_ angry, but to Heats that wasn’t very assuring, because Grillby also _didn’t_ sound surprised.

“…I don’t think…” Heats tried, but the way Grillby stared at him made him reconsider. Swallowing with a crackling pop in his throat, he said a number. It was a very, very big number. 

Grillby didn’t react at first. He crossed his arms very slowly, and walked away, and after a few moments the sound of his flames became obvious, the back of his head flaring erratically as Heats watched. The smaller elemental was suddenly very glad he had understated his debt. Grillby got out his wallet and numbly sorted through it, picking out all the cash and holding it out as he turned back to Heats, who eyed the cash surreptitiously.

“Uncle, that’s, um… not going to help me out much, I-”

“It’s what I have right now.” Grillby said, forcing Heats to take the cash before marching across the room to the stovetop, “Take it and leave and I’ll see what else I can do later. Right now I have work to do.”

“But, I-”

“ _Heats, I am **busy.**_ ” Grillby hissed, grunting as he picked up the huge vat of carrot soup, “I _know_ I’ve been _very_ generous with you and your mother in the past, but something _much more important_ has come up.”

Heats tried not to recoil from the tone, which was still oddly soft. Grillby was coming towards him now, vat quaking slightly in his arms, and Heats couldn’t help for feel a little intimidated as the larger elemental continued ranting, “I can’t just burn through all my savings right now. Unlike _some_ people, I have responsibilities! A business to run, and right now I can’t run around cleaning up _your mistakes_.”

“I don’t expect you to!” Heats implored, “I just need a place to stay for a while. A place away from _her_ , alright? She has eyes everywhere, but-”

A sudden, harsh scream cut through the kitchen and Grillby whirled around, nearly dropping the pot of heated death. He had to bend over awkwardly and suddenly, to keep it from smashing against the floor, splattering and running everywhere likely causing both elementals serious injury. Heats jumped as well, giving a wordless grunt of surprise. Before he could process what exactly had happened, Grillby had ran into the rec room, demanding answers from someone before turning heel and rushing through the kitchen. Just before he was through the door, he turned to heats and said, “Call the guard, tell them the boys have run off again.”

“What?” Heats said, lost, his core pulsating quickly with the fear of the unknown cause of upset. But Grillby was already out the door, his abandoned soup still sloshing faintly in its container. He took a step to follow Grillby before he heard a sob behind him and turned to find a crying rabbit girl rush past him.

\---

Gaster didn’t want to wake up.  
Why would he?  
He was dead.

Fallen.  
Tripped.  
Dusted.

Except…  
If that were true…  
Why did the damn noise annoy him so much?

It was the high pitched drone that finally dragged Gaster back to reality, filling his head as he regained consciousness. Everything seemed too bright to be real, and he kept shutting his eyes, half because they were too heavy to open, and half because he wanted escape. He was too bleary and unfocused to really understand the fact that he was spiteful of his own slow, drawn out death, merely aware that he was…

Exhausted?  
No…  
Shattered.

Gaster’s breath hitched at that, the closest he could come to a laugh. Had he been healthy, it would’ve been an honest, uproarious sound, now reduced to less than even a wheeze. God, that was funny. Really, truly, honestly funny. He was _shattered_!

Gaster’s eyes fluttered shut again as endorphins washed over him. They barely even touched him, but that didn’t matter. God - how long had it been? It felt wonderful to laugh again. He would love to die laughing, he decided. It seemed a good thing to settle for at this point… Still…

Gaster tried to crane his head over to look at ASP-6-T, get a final glance at his creation, a hope for all monster kind… Instead, when he opened his eyes, he found a thousand figures huddled over him, faces indistinct, distorted, eyes glowing like flashlights even in the bright red ambience. Gaster blinked in confusion, and in the instant it took him to open and close his eyes the crowd had vanished, leaving one lone figure in the distance. Again, Gaster let the weight of his eyelid close his vision and weakly counted out loud, hoping to dissolve the final phantom of his mind. When he opened his eyes, the figure had approached him considerably and now he could make out its features. A thrill rushed though Gaster – fear and surprise and delight and… 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=wccu9l)

\---

“Oooh…” Butterscotch said in a long, drawn out and envious voice, “You have Fluffy Bunny! We used to have one like that ages ago, but then Hop let Cinnamon play with it and he dropped it into the magma at Hotland.”

“THIS IS FLUFFY BUNNY?” Papyrus said, a pleasant surprise in his voice.

“Well, a plushy at least. You could call it anything you want, though. Me and Hop called ours Cottontail, because that’s what Daddy always calls us when he’s calling us out on stuff, so we’d just give him our plushy and sometimes get away with whatever it was we weren’t supposed to do.”

“I SEE!” Papyrus exclaimed with a little too much conviction, and Butterscotch looked at him a moment with a little frown. 

Both the new kids were really nice, but they didn’t know how to play right and it was beginning to become a problem for her and Hop, who was currently rambling something about octopuses to Sans as he waved one of the toys around enthusiastically. For a long time they had put together puzzles and drawn, after their first attempt at pretend had resulted in Sans dragging Papyrus over to Grillby for something. The Adult had crouched down and explained something to them, but when they came back Sans still looked unhappy. They kept staring at her, too, and if was starting to freak Butterscotch out a little. Even right now, Sans was looking at her, even though her brother was right in the middle of saying something to him.

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Butterscotch said, straightening her seat on the floor with a little indignant wiggle of her hips.

“my what?” Sans said, his face morphing to a mask of confusion, and Butterscotch rolled her eyes.

“Rude! R-U-D-E, rude.” She said.

“Stop being such a butt, Butts.” Hop said, leaning over to flick her forehead, “You’re being rude interrupting me. I was just telling Sans about how I once met this octopus monster, and-“

“And he wasn’t listenin’!” Butterscotch said, “He was staring at me! And so was his brother – look! What is your problem?”

“problem?” Sans said, and his voice had an uncomfortable tension to it that cut through some of Butterscotch’s frustration. She gave an agitated little huff before she continued in a much more understanding tone.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“oh…” Sans said, giving one quick, startled blink, “your nose…”

“My _nose_?!” Buttscotch yelped, hands flying self-consciously to cover it.

“IT KEEPS TWITCHING!” Papyrus said, “ARE NOSES SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?”

“Oh!” She uncovered her face with relief, “Well, yeah sillies! If you’re a rabbit monster that is. That’s why you’ve been looking at me so much? I just twitch it when I’m thinkin’.”

“Nuh-uh!” Hopscotch said, “You twitch it all the time! If you were thinking that much you wouldn’t be so dumb!”

Butterscotch ignored him and continued, “Haven’t you seen someone’s nose twitch before? Almost all us rabbit monster do it, and there’s a bunch of us which is why we have this big reunion! Mostly here and Snowdin and over in the new areas of the underground, where we work digging new tunnels for people to live in and try to find new caves! My mom works as a digger and she found an entire cavern filled with water, so now they have a way to fill up the aquarium they was to build for all the fish monsters. She’s like, a hero, and I want to be just like her when I grow up!”

“NO, BUT I LIKE IT!” Papyrus said, and it took Butterscotch a moment to realize he was still talking about her nose. She was so busy talking about her mother, she’d completely forgotten about the other topic now that she knew why the skeletons were looking at her and didn’t have to be upset about it because they were just curious, like the triplets when they pulled on her ears. Now she covered it again, smiling with embarrassment at the bright eyed skeleton who was beaming at her. She didn’t know what to say, so she tried to change the subject.

“I think I want another Butterscotch Bunny!” She said, turning to Hop. He had a huge sweet tooth, and as she predicted he was almost instantly on his feet. She didn’t even have to lift a finger.

“I’ll go get us all one! Well, cinnamon for me and Papyrus, because _we’re normal!_ ” He said cheerfully, before racing for the door. And then-

\---

Gaster’s perseverance flared, all the cracks, the wounds, the little chips glowing for a moment as his magic tried to pull him together. His pain vanished. Everything seemed to vanish except for his _intent_ … He was suddenly incredibly lightheaded, too lightheaded even to register how his being _creaked_ and _cracked_ and _shattered_ as he tried to stand or how he fell and fell and fell _and_ …

\---

Dust and dust and dust and… Blue.

\---

“S̵̮͎͇͕̰̿̑́ͦ͑ͧu̹̱̖̺̺͋b̰̺j͚̹̙͖̯̰͐̀ḙ͎͎͖͓̲͚͆͋ͩͧ͛̍̽c̠̭̟̳̀̒̑̆̄t̩ ͖S̵̪̺͈͋?̻̥̝͇̭͎ͪͬ͜”

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2d1smk2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who remember Chapter 25... The correct answer was B - Heats Flamesman will take over Grillby's kitchen, meanwhile Grillby is just like, "WHY U DO THIS?!?!" until he realizes it's actually a good thing. He just hasn't quite realized it's a good thing, yet.
> 
> The Wingdings is first comment in the comments section.
> 
> P.S. It's totally worth googling any OC's name. Most of the time they have stupid meanings... If you don't "get" one, it might be slightly more vague and if you bump me in the comments section I'll explain.
> 
> P.P.S. They're probably super duper lame, guys. I just have fun, okay? XD
> 
> P.P.P.S. Please leave me a comment if you can. I will shamelessly admit that there are currently days when they really help me get mself out of bed, despite how pathetic that is. Particularly since, all things considered, my life is going really well right now.


	31. Re[spite]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oprah's back, bitches.  
> [See Chapter 4 summary for reference.]  
> Note: I say "bitches" in the most complimentary of manners, in case that hasn't been established already. Sorry if I have offended anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys...  
> So, guess what? For the first 30 chapters this fic had an error in it's title and I never fixed it. Oops. Welp, fixed it now.  
> Also, I need to ramble about how great Doodle is again. Because... phenomenal. Even giving me evil ideas for things that happen and everything. Like, seriously, this chapter was VERY "meh", and then Doodle said a thing and... Well, hopefully ya'll enjoy it as much as I do.
> 
> [Fight The Fade - Embers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll1kyHZqx4c) is the music I recommend listening to while reading this chapter.
> 
> Look to your flower. Now back to me. Now back to your flower. Now back to me. If your flower secretly a goat like me? Is that goat secretly royalty? Is that royal goat wearing a stripped shirt? No, no he is not. Because he is a flower. The goat would like comments, though. Thank you.  
> Also, things may get hella confusing in a couple chapters here. Please don't be afraid to ask if you have a question. This goat feeds on questions and will poop out adorable little ~~"friendliness pellets"~~ answers.  
>  Foreseen FAQ will now be in the lower notes alongside any timeline that may or may not happen one day. :3

Entry Number One  
Strong. Stronger, yet stronger...  
Yet cracks keep growing,  
The dust piling deeper...  
I found a recording...  
But I cannot tell... If... It’s… Real?  
…I’m too tired to think about it.

\---

Hopscotch pitched, completely disoriented, a strange, squeezing paralysis suddenly releasing him. Everything seemed bright and dull around him, a combined effect of finding himself in a much more well-lit area then he previously had been paired with his own vision graying out. He tilted, then fell, limbs going awkward and sliding as everything went cold.

“Mama!” he yelled, any pride he had disintegrating with how simply _awful_ he felt, “Ma-”

A wave of nausea washed over the small Wolpertinger and he curled in on himself. He heard someone else sobbing. Then there was another flash of brilliant blue that the boy cringed away from, and then _noise_ and _crunching_ that grated on his eardrums. What felt like hours were seconds, but eventually he found himself able to move again.

Footprints surrounded him, the snow torn and muddied. A trail led away from him, away into the pines. The _wrong_ way, to place Hopscotch knew he didn’t wish to go, his soul already throbbing in his chest. Why would anyone go into the woods? He stood, head spinning as he tried to place himself. Alleyway, dumpster… How had he…?

It didn’t matter. He wanted safety and reassurance. Darting away from the trail, the pines, the forest, Hopscotch nearly collided with someone’s legs as he scrambled around the corner. Throwing his head up with a gasp, he recognized the figure with a measure of relief. The bartender.

\---

A dissonance of noise.  
Impact, screaming.  
Gray and-

-Confusion.  
A dissonance of noise.  
Impact, screaming.  
Gray and slick yellow-orange rolling over-

-Shock.  
A dissonance of noise.  
Impact, screaming.  
Gray and slick yellow-orange rolling over the floor.  
Dust and ash and burning and reaching–

-Reaching desperately for…

\---

-Papyrus.  
A discrepancy in location.  
Stillness, silence.  
Blue and brown glaring over the snow.  
Fear and revulsion and _shifting_ and running.

“SANS-” Papyrus started, but he didn’t have time to listen. They had to get away, and the clothing was coiling in on him, constricting his ability to move. Still, he forced himself forward, juggernauting over snowdrifts as he dragged his brother with him. The other child kept tripping, falling, and hitting, and sometimes it sounded hard. Sometimes it sounded painful.

“ _up, up, up…_ ” he huffed, halting, “ _hurry, hurry!_ ”

Sans crouched down and pressed close to the younger child, waiting for Papyrus to clamber onto his back. But Papyrus had fallen again, this time over a large rock protruding from the snow and tears were welling in his glowing eyes as he clutched his own shinbone. He wasn’t moving, and they had to escape, and-

“SANS, WHA-WHAT… _HAPPENED_?” Papyrus said, his high, sniveling pitch biting into the Blaster form’s sensitive ears.

“ _death_ ,” Sans said at first, growing more frantic as he thought about it, “ _dust!_ ”

“BUT-T I-”

“ _no, no no no-no-no- **no**_ -” Sans snarled over his brother, “ _you saw… you… **saw** … run away. go, go!_”

Papyrus looked up at _him_ with alarm, which lessened after a moment, the slack “o” of surprise drawing to a tight frown. He seemed to swallow, looking down to the ground and dragging his hands across his face. The child looked miserable, sadder then Sans could process. Sans whined in a wordless _need to leave_ again, bumping the other boy with his muzzle, and finally Papyrus reached out dragged himself upwards. With him settled, Sans continued his maddened sprint between the trees as the smooth, dark trunks receded around him… 

The sound of water in the distance, water ahead of them. No. The sight of empty space, of the river. No, no - Sans picked a direction, followed it, ran with the water, footfalls crashing through a crust of ice and landing heavy on sharp stones concealed beneath. No no no - someone shouted behind him. 

The river bent.

Sans whimpered at the water’s edge, signaling Papyrus off of him as he danced the icy brink. He put a paw in it experimentally, jumping back with a yelp at just how _cold_ it was. Too cold. He turned to his brother, the other child already shivering despite his dry clothing. Sans couldn’t swim well enough to carry them both, maybe not well enough to carry just himself… And Papyrus was sniffling. Papyrus was sick. They couldn’t make it. Their magic would seize if they tried, and then…

There was a fire in the distance.

\---

Papyrus shivered in the cold, hunched beside the water that ran swift and smooth and so, so dark. He watched his brother silently, knowing that there were no words that the other boy would hear. The Monster was coming for them – they’d both seen that now – but for Papyrus there was no hope of escape to strive for, no possibility of a good outcome. Everything around him was falling. Everyone around him was falling. Everything good… Dust with The Monster, dust with Sans, dust alone.

He didn’t want to see it again, but they were outside, running. He didn’t want the sudden hollow feeling that followed after patience disappeared, for a cavern filled with tears and noise and chaos to form in his chest until he’d emptied himself completely. Until there was nothing left and he felt nothing except for tired. The Monster had reversed it, once, but now - fear thrilled through Papyrus - now The Monster was a cause.

 _What had the other boy even done?_ It didn’t make _sense_. It didn’t _work_. It didn’t match up with _anything_. It wasn’t _punishment_ , at wasn’t _sacrifice_ , it was just… **dust**. It couldn’t be changed. It couldn’t be reversed. It had happened…

Except if it had, then how had he reached out and grabbed hold of the other boy?

Nothing seemed real anymore.  
Overwhelmed, Papyrus yearned to be alone with Sans.  
Safe with Sans. 

Someplace warm and soft, but the only places that leapt to mind was the couch in the rec room or the living room where Grillby read his book and listened to the soft voices of strangers or the bed in _their_ room with the closet that was small and dimly lit but _felt safe_ … 

But none of those worked anymore. He tried to push those places out of his mind and think of somewhere else, but he couldn’t. He could just close his eyes and see nothing but he tried to envision the traits he wanted or didn’t want and try to make a new place out of that, like quiet but not silent and not bright, but not dark either. The things he didn’t want piled up around him and multiplied, obscuring any sight of the things he _desired_ , erasing even the comforting thought of them. Because Papyrus didn’t want to be taken or to be alone and he didn’t want to hurt and he didn’t want someone else’s voice commanding them or forcing them or speaking in such deadly saccharine sweet that he felt it slide and seep back down his throat to choke him and-

Suddenly Sans was yanking on him, pulling Papyrus out of his downward spiral. He blinked rapidly in shock. He had been nowhere, again, in his mind. No one else was there, but that didn’t matter, everything was the same. Another yank, and he was on his own two clumsy feet, and Sans wanted him to shift but Papyrus couldn’t, because what if they were being watched, and besides, he just wanted to stop again. Just for a moment. Just to breathe.

He couldn’t breathe. Even though his body lied to him and his chest heaved and his magic felt electrified in his marrow, he knew he wasn’t breathing. He _needed_ to breath.

But Sans pulled him forward anyway, and he stumbled before finding his footing. Movement had always been clarifying to Papyrus, and within a few short steps he felt more stable, but now Sans wasn’t really moving anymore, just shifting back and forth as The Monster drew nearer. He whined, shaking his elongated head as he took a few faltering steps backwards, looking again to the water behind them then back to The Monster and to Papyrus. Then, as though gaining sudden certainty, Sans rushed forward, several feet towards The Monster, placing himself between the two other figures.

Papyrus started to follow, but a low, determined growl made him pause. Sans wasn’t Sans right now. He didn’t feel entirely like himself, either, forced to watch with that persistent sense of nightmarish removal as his brother squared off against The Monster, who had slowed, then stopped, palms extended in a show of benevolence. He was saying something, but the elemental’s words were lost across the snow, and Papyrus felt his soul freeze for a moment as Sans summoned bones and attacked The… Monster…

Grillby.

Attacked Grillby.

\---

Grillby narrowly managed to dodge the attack, and Sans looked almost astonished for a moment, before he attacked again. Grillby dodged it easily enough, then the next, desperately trying to assess the situation. Papyrus was just standing in the background, wide eyed, one arm drawn lightly to his face, as though he had been about to reach out before recoiling. Another volley of bones to his right, and Grillby threw himself left, grunting as a blue attack clipped his leg. When had that-

Motion barely visible across the snow, white on white, and Grillby had to scramble to avoid it. Thank god the leg damage was superficial or he’d be in trouble. How had–

Ah. Right. Sans SASS was formidable, but his regular attacks were still that of a child. So long as Grillby didn’t get hit by a blast, he’d be fine, particularly if he just remembered that. With his background, he wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t been able to take a hit or two. He’d been made for it. Still, - a dense fencing of blue bone rose behind him just before Sans attacked his front with white again, and Grillby darted forward diagonally to avoid both - there were only so many hits he could take.

“Sans, please-” He started once, cut off as boned rose from the ground directly beneath him.

He was actually moving closer now, evading attacks that all seemed to merge into one without interruption. Left, right, right, left, and forward, always forward save for the rare moments when he had a chance to try to communicate. A pause, where he inhaled to speak only to have more bones flying at him before even the first syllable departed from his lips. Grillby was doing rather well, though, as out of practice as he was, and didn’t get hit again until he had to force himself to freeze as blue attacks phased through him, unable to dodge the white ones that followed. He didn’t even try, knowing how little damage they would do… hopefully. It hurt, but not enough for Grillby to regret his decision, even though he grunted with the impact.

Grillby refused to use his own magic against Sans. He refused to use his magic at all, except for emergencies… It was why his stovetop was always just a little dirty, despite his numerous attempts to clean it completely; he simply couldn’t bare the sensation of _cooking_ something with his own flames. The thought of _that_ against a child filled him with loathing.

There was a brief ingress, and again, Grillby tried to raise his hands, tried to speak, but then there was a blue flare and he stumbled sideways, the beam of heat and light roaring past him. Sans panted after that. 

“Kiddo?” Was all he said, uncertain he would get to say anymore. He was searching for any sign of recognition, but there was nothing to find. Grillby took the opportunity to continue his advance, realizing the quadruped wouldn’t listen to him.

He’d only gotten a few feet before the skeleton shook himself, taking little steps forward, the motion that drove his magic as bones to both the right and the left of Grillby in stunning, cyan blue, and the elemental didn’t know _how_ to dodge as the monster before him opened his maw and-

The pain was utterly insignificant, no worse than any of the other attacks as Grillby stood frozen in shock in blast. As it ended, the elemental simply stood staring at the midst of his chest, a horrified captivation blossoming in him as he reached up and placed his palm flat against it. The fabric wasn’t even damaged. He should be… sprawled out on the snow or scattered ashes right now but he was perfectly fine. He looked up.

Panting had passed to wheezing, the quadruped’s breath coming in huffs that steamed in the cold Snowdin air. He looked as surprised as Grillby did, and they stared at each other. For a hopeful moment, Grillby thought it was done.

“I don’t understand. Please…” He started, his voice shaken, yet still feather soft. “Please tell me what happened. What did-?”

The beast – the child – Sans reared onto his back legs and Grillby felt something _shift_ in his core. An unknown magic that _settled_ , _nested_ within him, and then it _dropped_. Claws broke through the paper thin crust of ice the same moment Grillby crashed into it, steam rising as the elemental let out an anguished cry. 

Whatever magic was being used, Grillby had no experience with it. Thoroughly debased by the previous attack, he gave in to his first instinct to fight against it, trying to defy the inexorable. His entire being straining, snow met the bare flame of his face and hands and something _in_ him _gave_. Not spectacularly, but in a way it was most certainly not supposed to. Like the snow against his surface flames, a slow pain melted through him, starting small and faint but spreading like cracks on glass, growing until it was agony. Grillby went limp until Sans moved again, and Grillby was towed through the snow like a figurine on string, unable to defend himself.

The sounds of water grew, and Grillby realized quite suddenly what was about to happen. The river. Death. His sodden clothes would ensure he was extinguished even should he manage to pull himself loose of the water with no one around to stoke him. He flared, flames cracking and he tried to make at least a cursory attempt at struggle, but the pain of whatever gave reverberated across him again, leaving him debilitated. Any air he had was knocked free of him, and could only panic in silence as he was drawn over the shelf of ice that had formed at the water’s edge. And then he saw _it_ mere inches below his face, glossy black and glistening as ripples and waves danced across its surface.

Grillby stopped.

Or rather Sans did, leaving the elemental hanging partially over the water. A whimper, and Grillby felt the force on him increase dramatically. _Down_. Snow was crushed beneath him, compressed as the laws of gravity seemed to rewrite themselves according to Sans’ will and Grillby was pushed into the ground. A little chunk of ice fractured of beside the elemental’s head, falling to the water with barely a splash. He couldn’t move…

It wasn’t quite paralysis, but it might as well have been. Grillby’s core was lead, his flames mercury, every part of him was held practically immobile, pinned and weighted. He’d never been so completely conquered by another’s magic. He could feel Sans’ trembling through it, though he couldn’t see the boy. The child was terrified and whining and some part of Grillby knew he should care, but he didn’t because the water below him was dark and deadly and _he was terrified, too_. He was at the mercy of a child who might not know the meaning of the word.

Whatever power holding Grillby down shuddered, and for a moment, waned. Not completely, but enough for him to frantically push himself up, ignoring how the slush bit into his hands as survival trumped pain. He was still heavy and only managed push himself a meter or so inland before weight slammed down on him again, pressing him sideways and backwards so that he was forced to look upwards at the vague brown darkness above him. Keening whines in the distance cut through sizzling, and Grillby found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than keeping himself together and not succumbing to the pull of instinct just to _burn_. Prone on bare snow as he was, he’d consume himself, core dissipating as his fuel simply ran out.

“SANS…” Papyrus’ voice was quiet, “SANS, LET-T’S GO. WE CAN GO…O… WE CAN LEAVE.”

Nothing changed. For a moment, it seemed the pressure increased, but it ebbed just as quickly. Grillby couldn’t be certain it had ever amplified at all, because everything was dense and slow and sluggish and he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t suffocating, but the fabric on his shirt was heavy with moisture and kept the air restricted. There wasn’t enough of it.

“SANS?”

Sans sounded like an animal trapped and bleeding.

“YOU… YOU STOPPED HIM.”

Stopped was an understatement. Grillby couldn’t hear anything above his own gross noises after that, popping and crackling and dying flames. He was losing it… himself… to Inferno. Seconds passed, perhaps minutes.

Shaking. Beyond his pain, Grillby could feel shaking. It grew in severity, and dimly the elemental registered something change. Sans’ magic was draining from his core. Once he could, Grillby sat up, unconcerned with anything except peeling his shirt off of his thinning flame and drawing in oxygen. The air revitalized his mind, and he flared himself, sacrificing some magic to heal what fire had been extinguished. Only then did he look for the children.

Papyrus was standing beside Sans, the skeletal quadruped still staring at Grillby. The blue glow was distressed, dull and empty. The elemental stood, his flames dancing wildly as whatever had broken inside of him moved – or failed to move – with the motion. He felt his consciousness fracture for a moment as he wavered on feet, but lucidity followed, though the scent of burning rubber corrupted the air after Grillby’s heat rose dramatically in his lapse of concentration. He realized Sans’ gaze hadn’t followed him, still fixated squarely on where he had been pinned. The last pounds and ounces finally faded, modicums of weight the elemental hadn’t even noticed after what he’d been under. An utter relief for him, physically.

Blue to black.  
The impact sounded so gentle.  
The impact sounded so harsh.

Sans collapsed.  
Grillby staggered forward.  
And suddenly Papyrus stood between them.

Back here again. Everything washed away.

Grillby stopped. The day they met, the boy had attacked him. Grillby had already been damaged back then, too, but at least he’d known what was wrong with him. When the blast hit him, he had been certain he would survive if he just let it pass. Now he wasn’t. He had a horrible sense that his core was…

He’d deal with that later. Right now he had to deal with the boy before him.

“DON’T-T…” The child said, beating Grillby to speaking, orange flaring brighter in his eyes. A flash of green. Terrified, on the verge of panic… And oddly prepared. If Grillby continued forward, the boy _would_ attack him.

“YOU SHOULD LEAVE.” The child commanded, and any trace of doubt had bled from his tone. He didn’t even stammer.

Grillby blinked, his thoughts coming to recess as he realized for the first time that he _should_ leave. The child was right. He’d thought he was helping them, yet… here they were. With nothing. No progress made. And the boy was looking at him with a conviction Grillby couldn’t muster the strength to match. He blinked again, breathed, and very slowly nodded to himself. He turned away, towards town, gasping as the sharp pain hit him again. It was his back or his shoulder that was damaged; the piercing throb wasn’t localized quite enough for him to tell which. It just _hurt_. He took a moment, then took another tentative step forward, weary of his wounds, a different heaviness coming over him as he realized how _exhausted_ he was.

“SANS…” Papyrus’ voice had gone small again, so obviously childlike and uncertain. “SANS, YOU HAVE TO GET UP-P… PLEASE…”

Guilt. Grillby shut his eyes, horrified at himself. _What was he thinking_? That Sans had attacked him? That Papyrus might? That he was afraid? They were children…

“Just… fucking children…” Grillby choked, reproachful of himself, “…Really, now? You _are_ worthy of the name Inferno.”

He was careful as he turned around again, chary. His gaze settled on Papyrus, crouched over Sans’ crumpled form, murmuring things that neither brother heard. His mouth tasted like ash as his soul tried to invert itself within him. He’d nearly left them because he felt hopeless and scared, but looking at them now… How could they feel any different? He pitched forward unsteadily, footfall dropping mutely within his own track. 

And no progress? Hardly. They’d made progress. They’d moved forward. Grillby had no doubt that Sans had started that crushing _movement_ towards the river with the full intent to kill him, but the child had stopped. Hesitated. If he’d had the strength to fight the morning Grillby took them in, the elemental was certain he wouldn’t have been spared.

Another lurching advance and Papyrus noticed his return, eyes flashing green again as he stood, facing the elemental with a broad stance that only served to further demonstrate his juvenile stature.

“GO AWAY!” The child shouted, and all Grillby heard now was bravery and fear. No conviction. No hope. There had never been any.

He moved forward again and the boy’s magic flared, the elemental bracing himself instantly for an attack. Papyrus threw his arm up sharply, and long bones pierced out of the ground, flying at Grillby at an alarming rate. He nearly tried to dodge despite their blue hue, but managed to restrain himself before they hit him. They passed through him harmlessly, but the child was already preparing another attack by the time he could move.

At first it seemed the same as the last, the gesture, the stance, the blue bones rising in synch, but then Grillby noticed the peculiar arch of the attack. Only one of many bones would hit him, and at that rate it seemed an awful waste of magic for a child. But then, just as the pillars of blue magic rose above head height, they froze, the nearest perhaps a meter or two away from Grillby. Organized, concentric, they formed a cage around the children, meant to keep him away.

“L-LEAVE US ALONE!” Papyrus called, his voice breaking enough for Grillby to immediately continue towards him. Despite their intent, the gaps between the bones were far too wide, and Grillby slipped through them easily enough by turning to his side. Whatever it was flared in his core again with the shift, but he ignored it. The blue attack vanished as soon as he was halfway through, the child realizing his mistake.

“I’m not-”

“DON’T-JUST… GO AWAY!” he said, the words falling high-pitched and nasal and shaking. Grillby looked at him, pausing for a moment to let himself recover, because rushing forward wouldn’t do either of them any favors. The child took it as a second consideration and continued, “LEAVE!”

When Grillby started again, Papyrus started to waver, “P-PLEASE! GO-”

He cut off just to send up another volley of blue bones, which Grillby simply waited through.

“-AWAY!”

Orange and green flashed faster, the child visibly quaking in a way it seemed impossible for him still to stand. And Grillby could tell that for all his show, Papyrus was near collapse. It wasn’t just the shaking, there was also something in Papyrus’ eyes, he thought, some betrayal of dread the child fostered. The boy was still sick, if only barely, and as well as it had gone at first, Grillby was certain even the peaceful portion of their day had strained Papyrus more than the child realized.

“Papyrus-” Grillby tried, but the boy shouted over him.

“NO!” He said, his hands grasping at his skull as his eyes squinted shut, struggling with words, with meaning, “I… I DON’T-T… YOU NEED TO LEAVE!”

When he looked up again, he seemed shocked by how much progress the elemental had made in the few short seconds on his outburst. Papyrus took a little step backwards, raising one hand defensively while his other drew back to prepare another attack. Grillby stopped again, hoping he could talk to the child before he used any more energy needlessly. Again, the child beat him to it, uttering out desperate lines.

“I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU.”

Grillby made the mistake of reaching out slightly, a motion intended to symbolize his intent before he spoke. Papyrus reacted, and short, white bones flew towards the elemental. Grillby had time to do many things, but his magic was volatile and destructive and _no_. So he waited, assured by his knowledge of the child that he could take the hit.

One hit, at least.  
Right?  
…Probably.

It never came. Inches away from Grillby’s face, the bones froze, then disintegrated. There was a soft crunch as Papyrus’ knees met the snow, the child’s hands digging into his face again as he broke down.

“I DON’T-T…I DON… WANT… TO HURT… DON’T… I…”

Grillby closed the gap between them, pausing only because he wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t harm the child. He reached out, then stopped again, flexing his fingers as he pulled away. Could he touch them? Was he safe? He found his answer when Papyrus keeled forward, the elemental darting forward to catch him instantaneously, landing hard beside him. Again, something _hurt_ , but Grillby barely noticed, too focused on the child. Papyrus’ words kept tumbling over each other, repeating, and all he could do was try to calm the child.

Sobbing grew to wordless wailing for a while, and in a way Grillby was grateful for that. He couldn’t understand what the child was saying anymore, anyway, and just pulled the boy onto his lap. There was a sedative sensation that terrified him as he ran his hand over the boy’s bones - the same one he got from marble and cool concrete, the flow of heat into something else… How cold had the child gotten in such a small amount of time? Or how long had they been out here?

His attention snapped towards Sans, and he reached out, touching his forelimb in a vain attempt to gauge how cold he was. Not even a flicker of response from the boy, and for a moment Grillby thought the worst until he pulled Sans closer, clumsily, feeling more intently for a response. He hadn’t sustained any damage, but somehow that wasn’t assuring to the elemental. Only when he confirmed that single HP was intact did he turn back to Papyrus, though the child had resumed his nonsensical moaning a while ago.

“…DON’T HAVE TO DO-O T-THIS…” Papyrus said, thrashing once, then twice, then nearly convulsing as the words grew more frantic, muttering to screaming. “YOU… OU… CAN JUST… LEAVE US ALONE… YOU CAN STOP. ST-STOP. STOP. **STOP!** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreseen FAQ:  
> Q: Why didn't Sans' blaster hurt Grillby more? Gaster obviously feared them!  
> A: [Karma, bitches!](http://www.aminoapps.com/page/undertale/6609445/sans-karma-theory-is-sans-actually-weak) Basically, while Gaster's a morally bankrupt, Grillby is a fairly decent being. This is ironic, because Grillby still feels his sins crawling on his back.


	32. Soj[our]n

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a gif that perfectly describes my feelings for this fic right now.  
>   
> Anyway, is anyone even vaguely surprised that [Respite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ekx-WUSVp78) is the music for this chapter? I hope not.  
> Please leave me comments.

The Subject was strapped to the chair at fifteen points. Sixteen, as Gaster fastened the head strap tightly, causing The Subject to flinch ~~in pain~~ at the pressure. He took a step back to survey his work before glancing at the monitor. In the temporary holding cell, Subject S had stopped his pacing, likely due to exhaustion, and was now rocking back and forth against the wall. The corners of Gaster’s mouth twitched downward. He really thought he’d trained that behavior out of S. No matter. Now he knew the cause of the unexplained skull fractures that kept cropping up. He could work on that later, the superficial injury was not a priority. The issue at hand was more important.

“Do you understand what you did wrong?”

Subject ASP-6-P didn’t respond. ~~He~~ It was shaking as its mouth opened and closed a couple times. Gaster tried not to think why he would display such behavior…

It.  
It.  
It.

ASP.  
Artificial Soul Project.  
By definition, not real. 

It was not a “he”. It _was_ an “it”, because it was not a real monster. Any doubt was erased from Gaster’s mind, but a lingering frustration with himself remained. _He_ had to do this and _it_ would break the barrier.

“I-I D-D-DO… DON’T-T… WA-WANT-T-T-”

“You don’t _want_ anything.” Gaster snapped, The Subject’s inability to communicate properly enraging him. “Do you understand?”

Subject ASP-6-P would’ve shrank further against the chair, Gaster thought, had he not already been so thoroughly bound to it.

“Respond.”

The Subject nodded.

“Good.” Gaster selected an appropriately sized syringe from his instruments. With a pause, he started the recorder. He didn’t really want to include his… demonstration to The Subject in his official records, but he also had to expedite the process so that he could catch S in the act and begin corrections.

“Subject ASP-6-P, you will remain silent and listen. To those listening, please forgive any unprofessional statements on my part for the duration of this recording. There was an instance of… divergent behavior during battle assessment today. The aforementioned subject refused to strike its target when commanded, even after standard corrections were administered…”

Gaster paused, looking at The Subject for a moment. “Do you have anything to say, ASP-6-P?”

“OU-OOO…” The Subject produced, his mouth opening for just a moment before it snapped it shut and shook its head.

“Good-” Gaster said, pausing. He was about to say ‘good boy’, like someone might praise a pet. Instead, he let the word hang in the air alone. Just the thought of calling the _thing_ before him a boy, even given context, sent a lone, almost ignored shiver of revulsion through him. Subject ASP-6-P was rarely in a position to try to talk with Gaster, though on some level the scientist realized that the whimpers and whines created by the Blaster form fell into distinct patterns. He ignored it.

“Today I will be beginning a new treatment on the subject, mirroring a series conducted previously on Subject ASP-5-S. Please reference files 5-S Series 76 Procedural and 5-S Series 76 as well as associated images and figures. This first treatment will consist of an injection of one unit of two-thirds DT extract, diluted, of course, with The Subject’s own magic. Plans for the…”

\---

“Papyrus?!” Grillby said, panicking as the child continued lashing out.

“I-DIDN’T-T ME-” Papyrus’ voice became a wordless screech, garbled and broken as his mouth still worked to express some meaning. He was flailing, but in a peculiar manner, his movements almost limited. It gave the distinct impression the boy was seizing, and Grillby prayed that was not actually case.

He pulled the child closer, trying to limit any damage he might do to himself or his unconscious brother, remembering in vivid detail Sans’ similar meltdown. He hushed and said whatever soothing thing came to mind, feeling deeply that it was the right thing to do despite the meaninglessness of it. One of Papyrus’ arms splayed dramatically, uncharacteristic for his current pattern of movement, and struck Grillby directly on his wounded frame. The elemental couldn’t help but flinch, a brief exclamation escaping him as he held the child much tighter, trying desperately to contain the burst of heat his core attempted to dispel. Papyrus tensed in that same moment, his cries cutting off abruptly leaving Grillby with a faint ringing in his ears.

There was a moment of utter stillness, and then a tremor passed through the child. Very gradually, Papyrus pressed down against the elemental’s injury with his fingertips. Grillby made no motion to stop him, not entirely sure what the child was doing, merely grateful that he had stopped his screaming and seemed more aware of his surroundings. He inhaled audibly as pain lanced through him again, slight compared to previous instances, and the child pulled back immediately, huffing as he began to breathe again. Gently, Grillby released his hold on the child, letting one hand rest on his shoulder in case he needed to be held again. As soon as it was loose enough, Papyrus scooted away, staring at the elemental as he backed himself into the snow again with a muffled thud.

His breath came in choppy little quarter-gulps, fast and frantic, and his eyes flickered a pale orange, unstable and weak. After a moment of mute observation, the child’s hands started running over his body as though searching for something, and Grillby squeezed the child’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. In response, Papyrus’ hand swung up beneath Grillby’s as though about to swat him off, but the boy cringed and faltered at the last second. His eyes shut tight with a contortion of his face, the child’s attention went to his legs, fingers running up and down them desperately, even while blind, feeling for... Grillby took his hand away slowly, watching as Papyrus’ hands still glanced over himself, particularly his neck, wrists, and ankles.

“Easy…” Grillby said, “What are you looking for?”

Papyrus paused his pawing for a moment to look at the elemental, but didn’t respond before breaking eye contact to look at the snow instead. Grillby didn’t really want an answer. Something terrible had already clicked in the back of his mind. Papyrus was beginning to shake again, fingers contorting into awkward looking hooks as he continued clawing at himself. He flinched occasionally, as though startling himself, and his breathing became even more labored.

“Papyrus,” Grillby said, and the boy jumped again, even with the elemental fully visible before him, “You need to breathe.”

Papyrus nodded urgently, eyes flicking to Grillby’s face in recognition. The boy’s hands traveling to his neck, checking just beneath his mandible for what must have been the fifth time in a minute. Otherwise, his behavior went unchanged.

“No, I mean…” The elemental stopped. The conversation he was starting seemed oddly… banal to him, considering the circumstances. “Just… do what I do, okay?”

Grillby led the child through a brief series of breathing exercises with mixed success. Papyrus seemed to try to follow the instruction, but was too nervous and keyed up to focus on the practice. Meanwhile, Grillby noted a certain stagnation infringing on his consciousness as he released air slowly through his mouth. It was a strange experience. He’d watched Tisi lead Aiden through these same breathing exercises a few times, long ago, but had never attempted them himself. He’d believed at the time that it was more the gorgon’s presence affecting the child then the actual technique. Now he was left feeling floaty and ill, the hyperarousal from the fight was fading, replaced by confusion and numbness as Papyrus fidgeted beside him.

“Bah… Better?” Grillby asked, blinking as he tried to clear the thickening haze from his mind. Papyrus nodded, still clearly suffering the aftereffects of his episode but not as significantly. His hands were now clasped before him, fingertips running over the deformed bone where his hand plates used to be, and Grillby scowled at the realization. Still, it was better than the child had been earlier.

“Good, good… I’m glad. Just…” Grillby murmured, stuck in a mixture of fear, guilt, exhaustion, and general upset as he tried to figure out what to do now. “Surface sake, kiddo… what the hell happened?”

Papyrus opened his mouth to respond, a soft _peh_ of air absconding from his mouth before he looked stricken, clamping his teeth together with a snap. He shifted nervously and shook his head, and the elemental simply watched him with an ill and saddened expression. The kid was crying now, soundless, moisture glistening down the smooth white bone of his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Grillby continued, voice lagging as he caught his breath, “But… You’re alright, right? Everything’s okay…”

Questions were beyond Grillby at that moment. There were too many of them, and as he continued to say meaningless, soothing things, he wondered if it was for the child’s benefit or his own, and he brought a hand to his head, trying to clear it to no avail. His gaze fell to what Papyrus was looking at then – Sans- and he stared at the motionless figure until faint but hurried footsteps in the distance registered. He looked up, searching for the source, and gestured for the dog in the distance to slow their approach. Papyrus didn’t really seem to notice. The boy had come to a standstill, too.

“Can we go home?” Grillby said, his voice filled with longing. Papyrus looked up at him sharply, eyes wide, and Grillby felt a little pang of anxiety and shame from letting the emotion seep into his voice. He opened his mouth to say something more, try to correct himself, but then Papyrus nodded. His eyes were troubled and downcast, but he nodded, and that was really all Grillby needed.

\---

“…Pup?” Dogamy tried again, saddened but unsurprised he wasn’t getting a response from the child. He waited a moment, then switched to Pekingese, “ _Puppy, are you alright?_ ”

The skeleton child’s eyes flicked up to him, but he otherwise gave no indication of hearing the alpha. He was pressed against the armrest of the couch, as far away from both Dogamy and Grillby as he could get, arms wrapped around his four-legged brother. Dogamy sniffed inquiringly, but all he could smell was the elemental’s melted shoes. He’d had to nearly drag Grillby the last stretch back to his house, not that the old flame seemed to notice, too concerned with the two children. For a short time he’d actually tried to carry the comatose child himself, but Dogamy quickly put an end to that, realizing that the elementals’ cognizance was compromised.

Even once they’d gotten into his house, the elemental tried to shamble off to do something, but hadn’t risen again after the alpha commanded him to sit for a moment. In fact, he seemed to be dead to the world, his body sagging into the couch cushions in a manner that just seemed _wrong_ to someone who had known the decorous man as long as Dogamy had. 

He looked… Sickly, if that could happen, his flame uneven and crackling irregularly as a webbing of black spread over his chest, anomalous to the natural, shifting patches of dark-coal shadow in their permanence. Dogamy tried not to dwell on it, though not for lack of worry for his friend. He’d already done what he could, calling a doctor to come as soon as possible, and as far as he could tell, Grillby’s condition wasn’t worsening. The elemental had simply passed out, and as far as Dogamy was concerned, that was the best thing for him. Sleep, the dog thought, could do wonders.

“ _Puppy? Do you understand me?_ ”

Again, the kid didn’t respond, but this time his brow wrinkled and he didn’t even seem to register that Dogamy had said anything. Instead, he shifted a bit, adjusting his hold on his brother. The dog didn’t know what was happening at first, but quickly realized that the four legged pup was moving in his torpor. Still, he didn’t quite figure out it was damaging until the boy flinched and let out a pitiful little whimper.

“SANS, STOP…”

Dogamy grasped Sans, lifting him away from Papyrus only to have the child throw himself over his brother. His eyes were wide now, feral, teeth bared in a tight grimace of fear. The alpha was not particularly impressed, and gently continued his extraction, reaching out with a rough paw but tender touch to unclasp the child’s boney, clutching fingers. Papyrus only squeezed his grip, which further upset Sans’ scratching motions. 

Dogamy huffed, reluctantly becoming a little more forceful as he said, “ _Don’t worry, pup. I’m going to help him. I don’t want him to hurt himself._ ”

This seemed to register, and Papyrus backed off, watching as Dogamy took Sans and headed towards the bedroom to search for a blanket. He found one quickly enough, a fleece throw tucked near the top of Grillby’s closet, and wrapped the puppy in it tightly, confining the forelimbs against the torso without causing the child any pain or even discomfort, so long as Sans settled down. Midway through, Papyrus came to the edge of the bed, knees shaking beneath him and without a word Dogamy lifted the child up to see what was happening.

Overall, Dogamy was pleased with his work. He’d never leave a pup alone like this, there was too much that could go wrong, but since he suspected he would be around a while, it was a simple and effective means to an end. The fabric the child was wrapped in was slightly elastic, giving as Sans continued his random motion, but preventing any further scratches. Dogamy picked the bundle up and ran a thumb across Sans’ forehead, falling into a natural rhythm of petting him, and soon the weak struggling ceased as Dogamy scrutinized the closet again. He gave a light, amused growl, finding it as meticulously organized as he’d expected, and shifted a few of the shirts around, wondering if Grillby kept anything in the back. Then, with a quick glance to Papyrus to be sure the child would stay where he was, the alpha headed into the bathroom.

In his own mind, at least, Dogamy wasn’t a snoop. He was simply trying to be helpful. The fact that he went through every one of Grillby’s drawers even after finding the general healing ointment had _nothing_ to do with his curiosity about the elemental - nothing at all. He was just looking for the best way to treat the puppies’ scrapes and scratches. With nothing left to search, he closed everything up and went back to Papyrus. Setting Sans down on the bed, the dog gestured to a tear in the shin of Papyrus’ pants, beneath which there was a rather nasty looking scrape.

“Fix that?” He said, switching to common tongue again out of habit and holding up the tube. Papyrus nodded meekly, pulling up his pants’ leg and allowing the dog to treat his injuries. Afterward, Dogamy noticed the small dresser behind the boy and went to investigate. He opened a drawer and snorted - even Grillby’s socks were folded and color-organized – before closing it and looking back to Papyrus.

“You need dry clothes,” he said, hoping he was clear enough the child understood him. “You know where are they?”

Papyrus gave a tiny nod, having slumped over on his side to be closer to his brother. He was hunched now, defensive, but not downright alarmed, with one arm stretched forward to touch lightly against the bundle. Dogamy smiled at the child, crouching on the floor before he leaned forward to smear some of the ointment on Sans’ abrasions as well. Nothing severe, but sore looking enough that the alpha winced in sympathy for the sleeping child.

“Where?” Dogamy said, picking Sans up again as he watched Papyrus.

The boy looked up with a little frown. His gaze had been focused on Sans, brow ridge creased as he had watched the dog treat the elder brother’s wounds, and now he seemed to be holding back tears. Then, in answer to the question, he slid off of the edge of the bed and tottered through the living room, seeming for all the world like a puppet on strings, to the stairwell and stared up it. Dogamy came up behind Papyrus, setting his hand at the nape of the child’s neck, causing him to startle and gasp. The dog barely reacted, keeping his hand in place to support Papyrus as they lumbered up the stairs.

The kid led him to a moderate-to-small sized bedroom on the second floor, almost completely empty save for a bunkbed furnished with what appeared to be new bedspreads. There also appeared to be a tape measurer left errantly beside a bag of painting supplies in one corner, and a small, abandoned pile of toys next to the bed. Papyrus went immediately to the closet, a sudden sense of purpose in his stride as he opened the door and went within. Dogamy followed him, selecting a set of the miniature clothing at random and offering it to the child. Papyrus changed immediately, but made no motion to leave, sitting on the floor of the closet with his arms folded around his knees.

Dogamy peered at Papyrus for a moment, sniffing the air again, then glancing at the kid he had enfolded in one arm and back. The young boy was trembling as he hugged himself, and the dog let out a thoughtful whine, shifting on his paws as he watched the clearly drained and disturbed child. The entire time Dogamy had been with him, the only words Papyrus had said was to his unconscious brother, and other then that he was silent. While the alpha wanted to go back downstairs, he also recognized a certain… _settling_ of Papyrus here, and didn’t want to uproot the boy. With subtle resolve, he released a long sigh before slowly walking to the bed and sitting on the edge. He turned his attention back to Sans for a while, as the pup had started moving again, attempting to pacify him in much the same way he had before. Soon, all was still and deceivingly peaceful in the house as Dogamy was left with nothing to do but perk his ears and listen.

For a time, all he could hear was the faint crackling of Grillby’s flame and breathing, but after a while the noise from the closet hitched, and muffled sobbing drown out everything else. It lasted this way for several minutes, then eased, and then he heard Papyrus stand and looked up to see the child half-hid behind the doorway. 

Dogamy feigned another smile for him, and asked, “What’s pup want?”

Papyrus recoiled back into the closet, but after a pause, said, “SANS…”

Without a heartbeat’s pause, Dogamy stood and went to the closet, sitting just outside so the boy could see the other. Anxiously, Papyrus edged forward, reaching out as though to take the bundle which was larger then he was. Dogamy allowed the child to touch his brother, but shook his head as he started to pull a little.

“No. No, pup. Sans got to stay here.”

Papyrus gave a distressed noise, looking between the closet and his brother before reluctantly retreating to his hiding spot. He wasn’t quite glaring at Dogamy now, but the dog felt a little directed upset in the child’s eyes as they looked at each other and sighed again. Was he really going to cram himself in a closet for the child? Yes, he found, he was. In fact, he was rapidly learning that his shoulders didn’t really fit the narrow space available as he delicately wedged himself into it, careful to give Papyrus plenty of breathing room. Settling himself, he looked to Papyrus to find the child looking at him with an expression of pure astonishment.

“You like this?” Dogamy said incredulously after a moment, and Papyrus nodded in response. He’d seemed bewildered, edging on frightened by the situation at first, but then Dogamy shifted so that his brother was right beside him and calmed, pressing himself against both Sans and Dogamy’s arm. “Humph. Weird puppy.”

A pause, then, “Sans like this?”

Papyrus nodded vigorously, a little life flickering back into his eyes as he glanced up from his brother to look at the alpha’s face.

“Like… Here? Whole house?”

Papyrus scrunched his face and didn’t respond, so Dogamy said, “You like living with Grillby?”

Papyrus looked to the floor and shrugged. Dogamy was about to ask a different, more neutral question when the boy squeaked out a pressured, “…YEAH…”

“You like Grillby?”

“HE’S-S...” Papyrus stopped, “YEAH.”

“Do Sans like Grillby?”

“SANS… SANS DID.”

Dogamy thought about it a moment. Tenses were the biggest problem for him in common, that and word order. Believing he had sorted it out, he asked, “Why not now?”

“HE’S SCARED.” Papyrus said, his voice growing louder as he said the words very matter-of-factly.

“Are you scared?”

The boy was quiet for what seemed like minutes before answering, “YES.”

“Why?”

This time, the boy didn’t answer. He wrapped his arms around Sans a little tighter, and pressed his face against the folds of blanket. Dogamy waited, but eventually lost his patience.

“What scares you?”

“G-GRILLBY.”

“Why does Grillby scare you?”

“H-HE-EE…” Papyrus said, his voice vacillating as he started pulling for Sans to be closer to him again, “KILL-KILLED...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want any reason for Gaster to say "I use my hair to express myself" now.


	33. [Found]ation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to summarize other then Illuminati Confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Okay guys...**  
> [Who arted?](http://waterloggedart.deviantart.com/art/They-Just-614146955)  
>  Like... Wow. Is this the Chapter 29 outfit? Because if it is...  
> *Actually starts freaking out at the implications a little.*  
>  _(Do they know? Did they figure it out?)_  
>  Regardless, the fact that you mentioned my stupid fanfic with your amazing-ass work is _so freaking cool_ to me, thank you!  
>  I literally have nothing else to say except I love all of you and holy-shit-I'm-still-in-shock-over-this-whole-thing...
> 
> On another note, things happened, and this fic is going on hiatus for a while. How long exactly? Either a lot shorter or a lot longer then a month, because that's how long I'm actually expecting it to take to... Do "things". In the mean time, I've impulse written another Baby Blaster AU fic that will be updating 1-3 times weekly while this isn't posting, and will probably slow to 2-4 times a month after that. The first two chapters are already up, and it's right here - [Brother, Brother, Father Sun.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7549621/chapters/17169190)
> 
>  
> 
> **Translation of Wingdings in comments! :-)**
> 
>  
> 
> Song for this chapter is [Gravity Falls (Densle Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkB-TRt5QE4)  
> Anyway... Thanks for reading and please leave me comments... :3

“ _So, the kid’s fine?_ ” Dogamy said into the receiver, relief coloring his tones.

“ _Not a scratch on him, as far as I can tell. He did seem pretty shook up, but that might have more to do with his mother._ ”

“ _His mother?_ ” The alpha asked, taking a long, hard look at the drawings on the fridge. Some of them were sort of… creepy, but most seemed normal enough.

“ _Doe Wolpertinger – you wouldn’t know her personally, she lives out by the capitol, but you might recognize the name. Echo Press did a little bit piece on her a little while ago because she was part of the team that discovered the subterranean lake._ ” Doggo replied, “ _Anyway, she was furious at Hopscotch for running off outside alone… I don’t know the details, but naturally they got in a battle of wills and now the whole family’s feuding._ ”

“ _But he’s fine?_ ”

“ _Yep. I’m looking at him right now, in fact. He’s with his sister in the back. Um, she got mouthy with her parents because they weren’t listening to Hopscotch and is in time out, too…_ ” Doggo sighed, ready to change the topic. When his job wasn’t dangerous or tragic, it bordered on tedious. “ _Do you think the kid’s lying?_ ”

“ _Papyrus? No, but that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth..._ ” Dogamy said, looking around for the child to see if he was listening. He wasn’t, sitting in the chair furthest from the elemental and holding Sans next to him exactly as Dogamy had instructed him to. Coming back to the conversation, Dogamy considered what he said and added, “ _You know what I mean. He really thinks he saw Grillby kill Hopscotch. What else do you have?_ ”

“ _Not much. I took eyewitness accounts here, and they all boil down to the same story: Heats Flamesman – a relative of Grillby’s – shows up and a hot minute later our favorite bartender’s running outside like a human’s chasing him. Few minutes later, he came back and dropped Hopscotch at the restaurant before disappearing again._ ” Doggo replied, “ _One thing, though, Grillby and Heats might’ve been having a disagreement right before this all happened. Nothing physical, but yelling, maybe? I haven’t gotten a chance to talk with Heats yet, he’s been busy cooking and cleaning, but I should be able to shortly. The reunion seems to be wrapping up pretty quick, and most everyone has already left._ ”

“ _Are the Wolpertingers are leaving?_ ”

“ _Not right away. They’re spending the next couple days with Bailey and Bonnie... I thought you might want a word with them._ ”

“ _That’s Drunk Bunny’s kids, right?_ ” Dogamy said, starting to pace the house again, not really realizing he was looking for something to stick his nose into. Papyrus watched him, and the dog felt a little silly for his behavior. He just couldn’t help himself – it was hard to relax around this time without Dogaressa by his side. It was when they normally did the evening patrol together, something that they hadn’t had the ability to do since he’d been injured, and he was starting to feel a little cooped up and dejected about it.

“ _…Ms. Leveret? Yeah._ ”

Dogamy snorted, but didn’t say anything. The older dog couldn’t remember the last time the boozy broad had been called by her first name, so the “Ms.” seemed almost comical. He was about to say “you’ve been hanging around Grillby too long” when it struck him why that was the case, and decided against it. Doggo had seemed a little lost, lately, and while Dogamy didn’t go out of his way to praise his pack frivolously, he recognized the importance of acknowledging hard labor.

“ _Well, good work, pup._ ” Suddenly, Dogamy remembered why he didn’t praise people often. He wasn’t good at it. He felt his nose start to burn but continued speaking anyway, “ _You know, you’ve really shown your true colors these past couple weeks, Doggo, and I just wanted to say that I think you have potential to be the next great guardsman-_ ”

Doggo made a little strangled whine, interrupting what the alpha was about to say.

“ _-Are you alright there?_ ”

“ _I’m fine,_ ” Doggo replied quickly. “ _Sorry about that, something caught in my throat._ ”

“ _No problem,_ ” Dogamy said, “ _I just wanted to say that considering everything that’s gone on, particularly with the cave in and the kids and me being out of commission and all, you’ve been doing wonderfully, and I want you to know I recognize that. Now, unfortunately I’m in a position of saying, ‘great job, now get back to work’ at the moment, but you take my point._ ”

“ _Yeah… Thanks, but I-_ ” Doggo sighed, “ _Nevermind._ ”

“ _I’m all ears._ ” Dogamy offered, ever interested in other people’s lives. He stepped into Grillby’s bedroom in case the younger dog had anything sensitive to say.

“ _No, it can wait until later. Just, thank you, sir. It means a lot to me to have earned your respect._ ”

Dogamy smiled, pleased with the response and also spotting a rather _too_ inconspicuous box atop the dresser he’d riffled through earlier, “ _Alright then. Good. Now, I’m afraid I have to ask you to go back to the station once you’re done with – Heats, was it? – and watch the phone until the others get back from the cave-check. If I can, I’ll come relieve you when I’m done here, but… Grillby’s not looking so hot, if you get my drift, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving these kids without proper supervision._ ”

“ _Understood. Have a good night, sir._ ”

“ _Goodnight? Surface sake, Doggo, it’s barely six!_ ”

“ _Is it?_ ” There was a long, drawn out pause on the other end, “ _It is. Sorry… Feels later than that._ ”

\---

Grillby hit the ground hard. Gasping on the floor, he flailed weakly, disoriented, the movement enraging his injury. Pain fractured his consciousness, and his vision grayed, darkness gnawing on its edges, and he felt his body unwillingly relax. Desperately, he clung to the threads of his own mind, last clear memory a child in the snow…

The hurt receded slowly, and Grillby remained unmoving, trying to patch together the torn scraps of thought and feeling. It was frustratingly difficult, and his mind kept trying to skip it, move on to something simpler. Questions were hard, answers were harder, why not focus on the obvious? Sure, he still didn’t know where he was or how he got there, but the floor was dusty, or at least this neglected corner beneath whatever he fell off of was, and that was just as important, right? A shadow fell over the elemental, and somehow he both noticed and didn’t notice, because yes, it was suddenly darker, but he couldn’t think enough to wonder why or connect the even to the gentle footsteps he sensed approach.

“Grillby?”

Who?  
Him?  
No…

Dogamy. That was Dogamy’s voice. And this was his floor, wasn’t it? He was home. That comforted him, somehow, and he let himself ease onto the enchanted wood. Briefly, Grillby felt disgusted with himself over the dust on the floor, only to squint and question his priorities. Weren’t there more significant things to worry about? A lot of them?

“…Grillby, you awake?”

“Yes…” His own voice sounded foreign, and he let the “S” sizzle on, a placeholder for when he started speaking again. He needed to ask about something. Something important. More important than… anything he could think of, but that wasn’t much at the moment. Certainly more important than his floors. He could envision it… envision _them_ in his mind and he _knew_ there were words for them; words he wanted to use, but couldn’t think of. He settled for the best option he could find, the question too urgent to wait. “The… Sons?”

That didn’t sound right. The grammar was wrong. _My_ sons, maybe? Grillby winced. 

“No, no…” He corrected hoarsely, “The boys. Papyrus and Sans. Wh-” 

“Puppies are safe. Sleeping.” Dogamy answered, mercifully cutting the elemental off and asking, “Move you?”

Grillby took a moment to try to collect himself before responding, “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Dogamy grunted.

“I’m not-” Grillby hated the thought, couldn’t complete it, “It’s not a good idea.”

“Needs to happen.” The alpha countered, “On floor.”

“Yeah,” Grillby said. There wasn’t any venom in his reply despite the obviousness of the statement, only dogged acceptance. Moving was going to hurt. “I know. Just… Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” 

The dog didn’t move, just standing over the elemental for several seconds until Grillby revised, saying, “A few minutes.”

Dogamy grunted again, and Grillby heard him wander off. Breathing a sigh of relief, the elemental realized how oxygen deprived he was and spent the next several seconds just _breathing_. When he stopped, he heard Dogamy shuffling papers, then the gentle, muffled knock of a box closing, before the dog walked past him. At first, the elemental paid no attention, closing his eyes before flinching sharply, realizing the alpha was in his bedroom. Rolling over to look still seemed beyond him, so he stilled and eavesdropped, trying to figure out what the dog was up to. Before he could figure it out, the dog returned to stand above him again.

“Ready?” Dogamy asked.

“Ready?” The word was spacey, confused.

“To move.”

“…Yeah.” Grillby lied.

“Where go?”

Grillby wrestled with himself to find the right word again. “The fireplace.”

“You safe?” Dogamy said.

“Huh?”

“Hot.”

“Oh.” Did he burn Dogamy? “Yeah, I’m... Safe…”

“Okay.”

“Wait-” Grillby said, and Dogamy paused, leaving the elemental to sort out his objection. He couldn’t really find anything logical, save for a primal fear, so he asked, “You’re sure the kids are safe?”

“Yes,” The alpha assured him, “Safe. Sleeping. Like you should.”

There was a paw on Grillby’s shoulder before the dog finished speaking, then another grabbing him beneath his armpit. He hadn’t even started to move and the alpha was lifting, dragging him up like a rag doll. Grillby cried out when the discomfort quickly overwhelmed him, darkness clawing at his vision once again, and he focused solely on keeping his heat down, making himself “safe”. Cool. Don’t… 

_Cool_. There was something cool against Grillby’s back and he found himself abruptly on his hearth. Dogamy must’ve just carried him here, he realized slowly, vaguely curious how completely he’d just passed out. 

He felt strange. Not bad, precisely, save for the pain that came and passed with any single wrong movement. Just strange. Removed. And for the first time he could remember, he was honestly offended by laying on his hearth. Normally, the cool surface calmed him, but now it just seemed draining when he didn’t have much strength to begin with…

Where was Dogamy?

Grillby never parsed out an answer. There was murmuring in the distance, but it seemed so far away from him right now. The kids were safe. As much as he’d like to make sure of that himself, that… wasn’t going to happen. He could trust Dogamy. He had to. Still, something uneasy remained present in Grillby’s core, even as his eyes slid shut and he couldn’t quite bring himself to force them open again.

\---

A small uptick in events left Dogamy’s muscles tight, unfit to calm Papyrus properly as he dug through Grillby’s icebox for something to cool his hands with. His left was mostly unaffected, since it wasn’t baring much of the elementals weight with it and simply let go instead of grit through the heat with it. His right, however, did not fare quite as well. It was a minor injury, not even a real burn compared to those half-healed on the dog’s face, and luckily the rest of his body had been insulated by his cloak when the elemental flared.

Perhaps that was what unsettled the child, whose face was contorted in an ugly manner as he gripped his brother tighter against him. Dogamy didn’t like the way the child was holding Sans anymore, one arm wrapped close to the boy’s neck, but struggled to think of a way to take one boy away from the other without further aggravating the situation. When he approached them a moment later, however, melting ice in paw, Papyrus’ murmured calls of distressed proved he wasn’t conscious. Everyone except for in this house was drained him, the dog reminded himself, and that seemed to make his job simultaneously simple and far more difficult.

In the meantime, hushing the child seemed to work wonders, as did shifting him gently to his side where he rested more easily. The situation temporarily defused, Dogamy ran upstairs to get something, then returned moments later with one of the stuffed bunnies wrapped in a blanket similar to the one Sans rested in. Carefully, he attempted a substitution, surprised by how smoothly it went. Then again, if Papyrus woke up like this, the alpha suspected things would go quite poorly. There was a knock on the door, quiet, quick, then almost immediately the doorknob turned and a cold gust whispered through the living room as it opened, revealing an angry looking thumb of a man.

“Heats,” Dogamy guessed, “Please close-”

The door shut tersely behind the short elemental, not quite slamming, but with a definite noise portraying the little man’s mood.

“How do you know my name?” He demanded, eyes narrowed.

“Um…” The alpha wasn’t certain how to respond to the blatant aggression. 

“What’s going in here? Where’s Uncle Grillby?”

“He sleeps on fireplace,” Dogamy answered quickly, grasp of the language further confounded by his rush to reply in order to avoid conflict, “Hurt.”

“Grillby’s _hurt_?” Heats responded, the honest shock in his voice surprising Dogamy. Surely Doggo had told him- “What happened? It this some kind of set up?”

“Set up?”

“Yes. A set up.” Heat’s said, voice growing hot and indignant, “I know one when I see one, and I don’t trust you ‘royal guard’ members as far as I can throw you. I mean, first Grillby runs off all sudden like, and then you _boys_ come sniffing around, claiming he killed a boy who’s obviously alive? That he has children of his own? _Yeah, right._ Something’s going on here.”

Oh. Heats was one of _those_ types.

“You welcome to see Grillby,” Dogamy gestured behind him, “All a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Heats scoffed, “It’s always a misunderstanding with you, isn’t it?”

“Woah, no. Small time, Snowdin small town.” Dogamy said, trying to appeal to the elemental, “I’m on your side.”

“On my side?” Heats said, eyes bulging comically as he realized Dogamy seemed to be taking him seriously, “And what’s _my side_ , exactly?”

Dogamy leaned in, equally conspiratorially, and said, “Grillby’s side. Against _Them_.”

“ _Them_?!” Heats exclaimed. Dogamy quickly put a finger to his lips. Heats nodded, drawing a hand across his face to symbolize himself zipping his mouth before shuffling so close to the alpha that his face nearly brushed the much larger monster’s side.

“Them?” He whispered, “Which Them?”

In his mind, Dogamy came to a standstill. Which “Them” indeed. He tried to pass off his stalling as grave silence before replying, “You know... _Them_ Them…”

Heats took a quick step back and made intense eye contact with the dog, before nodding, hitting one palm with a coiled fist as he said, “Them… The shadow government…”

“Shhh,” Dogamy raised a finger to his lips again and hushed Heats, “Something like that.”

“Why are we being quiet?” Heats whispered, “Is Uncle’s place bugged?”

Dogamy considered it, then shook his head, saying, “No, but... You can never be too careful.”

“Right,” Heats said, “Good thinking…”

With that, he cast an accusatory glace behind him to the door. He moved slowly through the house at first, casting suspicious glances in all the dark corner of the room until he spotted Grillby. Any need for pretense was lost as the smaller elemental rushed to his side, his flames crackling with concern.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, one hand gasping Grillby’s shoulder as he knelt beside him, “Uncle Grillby… Holy shit. How did this happen?”

Dogamy paused again, deciding to be as honest as possible, “Puppies in trouble, Grillby help.”

“That… That sounds like something he’d do…” Heats said, his voice tight and dramatically emotional, “Surface sake, look at him, though! He looks like he took a fucking swim… You called a doctor, right?”

“Yes. Come soon.”

“What, exactly, happened?”

Dogamy shifted uncomfortably, debating what to say again and looking down at the bundle in his arms. It was becoming very clear to Dogamy that Heats wasn’t the brightest flame in the fire, and he wasn’t certain what to tell and what not to. Dogamy didn’t have a chance to reply as Grillby shifted in his uneasy rest, murmuring something incomprehensible.

“Uncle Grillby?” Heats said, turning his full attention to the other elemental, “Are you awake?”

He jostled the unconscious monster in a way that made Dogamy flinch as he watched it, and sure enough, Grillby’s flames flared as his body went suddenly rigid. Being am elemental himself, the increase in heat didn’t bother Heats in the slightest as he maneuvered down to grasp one of Grillby’s forearms.

“B-man, can you hear me?”

Grillby groaned, and Heats took it to be confirmation, voice unsteady, “Shit, B-man… I thought you were, like… like a health nut or something. Don’t you like, exercise every morning and stuff like that? How the hell did you let this happen to you?”

The alpha broke in then, more concerned for Grillby’s health than Heats’ piece of mind as he gave a somewhat edited explanation. The story was just long enough to draw Heats away from his ‘uncle’ and to the nearby couches, leaving the old flame in some peace. Dogamy’s broken grasp of common helped his gloss over some details, pretending he simply didn’t know how to translate somethings instead of saying them on the occasions Heats actually asked questions. About halfway through, the dog started to wonder where the doctor was, but tried not to let his apprehension show.

“So these kids, then…” Heats said, “They’ve really had a bitch of a life, huh?”

The alpha’s lip twitched at the derogatory, but he managed to show no other signs of irritation. Elementals weren’t the only one to suffer bias in the underground, though they were certainly the most universal victim of discrimination as a race. Dogs used to have it rough, too, but that had changed a lot since more of an initiative had been taken too break down the language barrier. Because of that, many people of the common tongue could understand Pekingese and vice versa, allowing for commonality. Still, the complexities of the relationships between different types of monster were far more confounding then most realized, and in many ways, this was the fault of the underground’s education system. 

School taught young monsters that monster kind was a single culture, united in war against humanity. And in the early years, right after the barrier formed, this had been a good falsehood to propagate throughout the masses. It brought a sense of unity and purpose to the people, allowing them to work together, side by side, to survive. Now survival was less of an issue, these teachings denied many their heritage, glossing over the fact that the underground started as a sanctuary for refugees of nearly a dozen different countries. Some of the monsters alive now were still virtually unique, despite centuries of opportunity to homogenize with the rest of the underground, their ancestors having sailed across oceans to visit the continent of the majority before the war broke out, stranding them. Often, they suffered most at the overall obliviousness of the public, outcast by their language or strange physical structure. 

Really, anything could isolate a particular sect, from number of legs to age. Many insect based monsters in particular might only live a year or two, while elementals could be functionally immortal, a fact that Dogamy was just now reminded of while shuffling through Grillby’s personal items. He found a picture from when he and Dogaressa were just starting to date, and in it, his friend looked virtually unchanged from the figure he was used to seeing behind the bar here in Snowdin. Perhaps that was one of the things that had him on edge… Back then, neither of them had a good grasp on common at all, and “bitch” was one of the few words they did know thanks to its frequent use against them and their companions.

“Yes,” Dogamy replied, his tone collected and casual. He knew Heats didn’t mean anything by it, and at the moment, calling the elemental out on the offense seemed more trouble than it was worth.

“And they, like, attacked Grillby? Twice?”

“Perhaps… Seems like that.” Dogamy said, an uneasy feeling settling over him as Heats leaned forward, peering at Sans, still cradled in the alpha’s arms.

“Heh,” He said, “Doesn’t really look like a child, does he?”

At that, Dogamy felt the need to snarl, assuming the comment to regard the child’s current dog-like form. He didn’t, but flashed Heats a quick display of his large, bared teeth in response. The elemental’s eyes went wide at this, and he leaned back sharply, clearly confused and ignorant.

“What?” Heats said, haplessly raising his hands, “I mean, look at him. He looks like a freaking burrito.”

Dogamy blinked, completely taken a back. Burrito? He looked down at Sans, swaddled tightly with just his head showing past the blanket. Oh. Burrito.

“Sorry. Thought… bad of you.” The alpha responded apologetically, before agreeing, “Yes, burrito look.”

“No big deal, dawg.” Heats responded, shifting and clearly tense, “Just scared me a bit. Why’d you do that to him, anyway?”

“He…” Dogamy pantomimed scratching over his face with his free paw, “hurting himself. Bad.”

“Shit’s sake,” Heats said, frowning. “Poor little burrito boy…”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Actually, though,” Heats continued, “that sounds pretty good.”

Dogamy wrinkled his nose, lost once again by the short man. Luckily, Heats failed to notice.

“I should make burritos. I mean, I haven’t eaten all day, was too busy working at Uncle’s.” He stood, “Dude, you want one?”

“No,” Dogamy said, “Thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Heats said, giving one last long look to Grillby before shuffling off to the kitchen. Within minutes, he was whistling cheerfully, and Dogamy was left questioning his faith in monster kind.

\---

**[Audio File Number 1]**

“yeah, but… what… what was that?”

“…Segoe, you’re mu̢t̡ter҉inǵ again.”

“…Dad?”

“It was… n͞o͘thi͡ng, just a product of the machine… I̵͏ ̨t̛͜ǫl͏͏̛d́͞ ̧͢y̧͜o͢u҉ ͜͠no̡͜͢t̛͟͝ ͏to͢ ̕go̧ ̸nęa̛͞r̕ ̵͘i̶t͜͠!̸̵̛ Surface sake, C͡C… I thought I’d lost you…”

“But… he…”

“W̧hat̀ is it, son?”

“Dad, you were falling… and i…”

“Shh, S͝e͏go̵e͝… Come here. It’s alright… That’s it. Do I look like I’m f͠a͡l̛lińg to you?”

“no, but in the-”

“Th̡a͠t̵ w̴̵a͡҉͟s̨̕͞n͢͡’̴̛͡t̷̸̷̸̕ me. N̨o͏n͢e̢ o̕f̕ t͏h̴e̢m͠ a̛re.”

“He recognized me, though… he called me Subject S…”

“…”

“dad?”

“…Do̵n’̛t͏ wor̴r̀y ąbou͏t ̸h͠i̵m,̨ alri̶g҉ḩt? He’s made his choices. Just… Şu҉r̷f̕ac̛e ͏s̸ak̸e͞, look at the time. You, uh… You should go to bed, alright? It’s late...”

“dad? are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine son… Didn’t I just͠ ask you to stop muttering?”

“…Do҉n’҉t ̛giv̀é ҉m͜e ͘that́ lo̷ok̀, Ségo̷e̸. You know I’m teasing. Go on ahead, alright? Brush your teeth, and I’ll be there in a second to read to you and tuck you in.”

“but da-”

“…Fine.”

“Hurry up now, CC. I promise this won’t take me long, I just n͢e̕ed to make sure... nothing got broken.”

“I didn’t _BREAK_ anything!”

“Haha, I know… I ͟k҉n͞o̕w… I just need to check sớm͘eth͏̴̀i̧n̶̕g. Go on…”

“i’m going, i’m going… Promise you won’t take long? that was scary…”

“I p̨ro̵mis͜e… And no need to be scared…”

“okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm officially begging here...  
> If you write or draw Mettaton smut, could you **PLEASE LITERALLY GIVE HIM A CROTCH ROCKET?**  
>  I just...  
> Like, it's not a sexual desire of mine (sorry robots, probably not interested) but I literally need that in my life.  
> Like really, really need it.  
> Because you know he'd have them.  
> You know it.  
> And they would be _fabulous_.  
> ...  
>  Yeah.  
> EDIT: I found [THIS](http://hotlegmeme.tumblr.com/post/144919546683/wrong-blog-but-have-you-considered) half an hour after posting...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again guys!
> 
> So, you made it this far, huh? Either you're just skipping to the end to see the good fics I mentioned in the beginning notes, or you actually read the entire thing... Either way, awesome! Thank you very much!
> 
> If you have read this whole thing and want more, I would be delighted if you indulged me by commenting. Even if it's just one simple period or something negative (flame away, please!), it would improve my day by at least 120%. Also, if you point out spelling/grammar errors, I am very happy to fix them! 
> 
> Thank you again for considering or reading this fic. It means a lot more then it should to me, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
> 
>  **If you're interested in well written fics, I would advise you to look as some of my inspiration below.** They aren't all fics, but a lot of them are. There are a few videos, some audio recordings, all sorts of different media. **This fic is heavily influenced by:**  
> [Trust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5378657/chapters/12423164) by KeetahSpacecat - A fic from the creator of the Baby Blaster's AU.  
> [Domino Motion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5379959/chapters/12426143) by lakesandquarries - When Grillby finds his garbage looted, he decides to investigate and ends up finding two very unusual children. His life quickly becomes more hectic.  
> [Hellfire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5632420/chapters/12972502) by renwhit -This is something most do not know about elementals: they are bred for war. OMG.  
> [Edge Of Morning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5475230/chapters/12652856) by SvenskaFishes - Did someone order goat-mom? :-)  
> [Creative Problem Solving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5679574/chapters/13083982) by bermudablue - Told very uniquely. I'm not really up-to-date, but damn good.  
> [Out of House and Home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6028894/chapters/13827097) by DandelionSea - Baby Blaster/Handplates AU meets Underfell! Perhaps my current favorite merely due to the pure novelty of it.  
> [Subject 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5493320) by Moss_Flowers - One of the first Evil!Gaster fics I read... Fun thing is that he's not entirely evil. Why I love it so much. :-)  
> [The Lab](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3qq2rmsp9IPRfd2teeaKVnYfLlakF6n0) by Zarla - Hello there, Handplates!  
> [Other](http://zarla.deviantart.com/gallery/56433174/Undertale) by Zarla - **Just. Like, um. Go check Zarla out.**  
>  Other(s) yet to be listed.  
> Inspiration pending information:  
> http://sushistreams.tumblr.com/post/139142154634/years-after-the-war-between-humans-and-monsters
> 
> Obviously I own nothing here. :3


End file.
